


No Future

by Enziroth



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, strap yourselves in and get ready because this is going to be a ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-18 20:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 71,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13689453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enziroth/pseuds/Enziroth
Summary: Katakuri is a man only his captain could stand up to, with a skill for observation that far outstrips his own and a sheer brute strength that could crush him in an instant.Sanji can't quite understand how he's not dead yet.





	1. Chapter 1

Sanji pushed at the cuffs that had been locked around his wrists and ankles, testing their strength. They held firm, and he slyly slid up one of his sleeves so he could feel the material against his skin, wincing as the familiar cool pressure of seastone greeted him.

 _Not surprising_. It wasn’t dragging him down any, since he wasn’t a fruit user, but the stuff was still ridiculously tough. It wasn’t like he was in any condition to break out of even normal cuffs, but a Yonko’s family of all people would have enough of the stuff around to slap it on normal people.

He lifted his head to face his captor. “All this fanfare, for little old me? I’m flattered.”

Despite being muffled by what had to be the fluffiest scarf Sanji had ever seen, Katakuri’s voice came across quite clearly. “Seeing what your captain was able to do, it would be beyond foolish to underestimate you.”

“No danger of that,” he muttered under his breath. Half the damn Charlotte family had to be here, standing in the streets along the route he was being escorted through. Katakuri himself was right beside him, trident in one hand and the other clasped tight around the chain that connected to Sanji’s cuffs. Oven and Daifuku weren’t far behind.

He didn’t have the slightest chance of escaping, but he’d expected that. From the very moment he’d woken up in an unfamiliar place to see one of the Sweet Commanders towering over him, Sanji had already resigned himself to his fate.

That didn’t make the walk from the hospital to wherever he was being taken any easier, though. His legs hurt like crazy, one set in a thick cast that forced him to hobble along, and the other the sorest it had ever been. His back was one massive bruise that screamed at him whenever he stepped unevenly, which was _every fucking step_ because of the damn cast on his leg.

His head was foggy from the pain, his shoulders ached from the angle his hands were trapped at, and even though he’d only been awake for a few hours, he felt exhausted. He barely remembered anything about his attempt to take on Big Mom, but it was pretty clear he’d gotten his ass kicked.

 _Not dead, though_. That was a definite bonus. Hell, he’d take small mercies where he could get them.

 

The honorary parade ended at Katakuri’s residence.

It was obvious that it was his because of the sheer size of everything, chairs and table easily three times the height of normal furniture. In typical Charlotte style, the entire house was built out of food; in this case, the materials all seemed to be flour-based. Sanji could recognize all of the different types of bread that had been used to construct the walls, and the ceiling smelt strongly of mochi.

Katakuri left him in the middle of the room, looping and locking his ‘lead’ around a table leg. Sanji was casually informed that a dozen of the Charlotte family’s best snipers were waiting around the perimeter of the house, ready to shoot if he so much as peeked out. Then the man left, presumably to take care of whatever he did when he wasn’t threatening people who were already beat to shit and tied down.

There wasn’t much to do with a total radius of only three feet, so when Sanji got tired of walking in circles he looked around. For all the extravagance he’d seen while he’d been a guest at the Whole Cake palace, this place seemed pretty plain. The chairs and table dominated most of the room, and there were a few large dressers against the walls, but the room was missing any kind of extra decoration. He could see a couple of rooms branching off from the main one, but the huge doors to them were closed. Even if he could move around, the knobs to open them were far too high to reach.

There were no windows, of course. That’d be too easy.

Other than that, there wasn’t much to look at. Sanji considered laying down on the floor to catch a little more rest, but the bruises on his back protested when he moved to lie flat. He swore, trying instead to find a comfortable way to sit, and finally settled leaning sideways against the table’s support post with his legs spread out.

He must have fallen asleep like that, because the next thing he knew, it was morning.

 

The first few days were much like that one, with a few minor changes. Katakuri left him mostly to his own devices during the day, always with a warning about the snipers around the house if he attempted to escape. He wasn’t chained down again, but the cuffs remained in place.

There wasn’t much else to do but roam the house, so that’s what he did.

Many of the doors had been opened after the first night, including the one leading to what was apparently ‘his’ room. The doorframe and walls were built to the same proportion as everything else, but the normal-sized furniture gave it away. There was a bed, a table and chair, and a modest bathroom.

It was a lot nicer than a prison cell, but Sanji still had a little trouble sleeping when he accidentally poked a hole in his mattress and woke up covered in marshmallow.

For someone Sanji thought was supposed to be guarding him, Katakuri was missing a lot during that time. He was always back before Sanji went to sleep and always there when he woke up, but he seemed to rarely be in the house any other time. He chalked it down as the guy being too busy helping to run an empire to look after a half-dead cook.

Meals came to him through the front door, in the hands of a different chef every day but always guarded by the same two long-necked twins. The food was always a dessert of some kind, from cakes and pies to ice cream and sweet buns. The constant intake of sugar had him aching for a decent meal, but attempting to reason with the chef when he’d been served crème brûlée for breakfast led to two sets of arrows shoved in his face.

With his wrists and ankles bound tight enough to keep him from everything but walking and eating, he’d been forced to back off.

Other than the thrice-daily meal brigade, he was left alone. He wasn’t beaten. He wasn’t tortured. He wasn’t even questioned. It was an odd sort of situation that left him feeling more like a little kid than a prisoner. _You can go anywhere in the house, but don’t go outside. Eat your food. I’ll be gone all day, but I’ll be home before dark._

The thing was, he hated feeling like a little kid a lot more than he hated feeling like a prisoner.

Sanji wasn’t stupid; he saw the mirrors on the walls and knew he was being watched, but it still felt odd. Shouldn’t he be in something less…nice? He’d seen the massive book-jails the Charlottes had used to hold their prisoners. Why the hell didn’t they just put him there? Why was he given so much freedom? Why were they taking care of him?

_Why the hell hadn’t he been killed yet?_

 

“You’re recovering quite well,” the doctor noted, poking at the yellow splotches on his thighs. It hurt, but not nearly as bad as it had the day he’d woken up. “These are almost completely healed. I’ll admit, I’ve never seen someone came back from such injuries as fast as you have. It’s nearly unbelievable.”

“Good.” Sanji flexed his left foot, testing the flexibility of the joint. It was stiff and sore, but he had almost his entire range of movement back. He couldn’t wait to walk properly again.

“Unbelievable? I’d dare say this is unnatural,” the doctor on his other side mused, examining the leg that had been wrapped in a cast. “This was a clean break, and a minor one, but even minor fractures should have taken far longer than this. Move the toes again.”

Sanji obliged.

“ _Truly remarkable_ ,” the doctor whispered. His gaze was fixed on Sanji’s leg with almost an obsessive glint in his eyes.

“Whatever.” Chopper had long gotten used to the speed at which they recovered, to the point where his estimates of actual bedrest time for each of them were incredibly accurate. The little reindeer had even learned how to account for anything they might get up to while they were injured.

 _I miss him_.

Sanji shooed the thought away, as he had with all other thoughts of his crew that had popped up in his head over the past few days. They’d gotten away safely; he was sure of that. If they hadn’t, he was certain he’d have been told. He doubted any of the Charlotte siblings would pass up the opportunity to rub it in his face.

Luffy had told him to go. Luffy would come back for him.

 _Don’t think about it_.

“Do you have any further diagnosis, doctors?” Katakuri had been watching the entire time, a silent but constant presence in the doorway of the room. He’d left as usual that morning, but this time he’d come back before lunch with a team of medical personnel in tow.

After being poked and prodded and told to wiggle this or that for almost an hour, Sanji decided he preferred it when the man had stayed away all day.

“No, Lord Katakuri. He seems to be well on his way to a full recovery.”

“I concur with my colleague’s assessment, Lord Katakuri. I recommend a follow-up in another week, but it doesn’t seem like he requires anything more than rest and time to heal.”

Katakuri accepted this with a nod, stepping aside to allow the team to trail out of Sanji’s room and into the main hallway. He opened the front door to allow them to pass, then held it for the long-necked twins and the chef who came in right after them. Today, they weren’t alone; another, larger chef followed behind them with another, larger plate.

It looked like Katakuri was going to be eating with him.

 

“I’m going to die of diabetes if you keep feeding me this stuff. You need me alive, don’t you?”

Katakuri glared down at him. The man hadn’t even touched his bowl of soufflé, instead choosing to sit at the massive table and watch Sanji as he’d eaten his. He felt a little uncomfortable with the scrutiny, but he was hungry as fuck, so he ignored it.

“The food you’re being given is sustenance enough. Mama’s chefs are of the highest class. They are quite capable of providing all necessary nutrients in dessert dishes, and I will not pull them from their duties in order to fulfill the flighty request of a _temporary_ guest.”

“Then just give me my own kitchen and I’ll cook my own food. I’m tired of all this sweet shit.”

“No.”

He’d expected as much. There was no way the fighters of the Charlotte family had managed to keep themselves in the shape they were in if all they ate were sweets. Sugar didn’t do anything to fuel the kind of smooth, well-honed bulk on Katakuri’s frame, after all. He’d noticed the added protein in his food, masterfully masked behind fruity flavors and caramel shells, and come to the same conclusion himself…but he wanted to _cook_ , goddamnit.

“Don’t got nothing to do around here, anyway,” he muttered. He felt irritable from both the doctors’ visit and the cold rejection of his demand, though he honestly hadn’t expected to get anywhere with the latter. He was already being given far more than he could’ve possibly asked for, but he couldn’t help himself; there were only so many times he could identify all of the flavors of sweet crepes used in the flooring before he went crazy.

Sanji finished his soufflé slowly, savoring each bite. He might be getting sick of all the sweets, but he was starving, and it would be a crime to not enjoy something so finely made.

Speaking of which…

“Are you gonna eat that?” He waved his spoon in the direction of the much-larger portion on Katakuri’s plate. The man still hadn’t touched it, even though the delicate top of the dessert had collapsed in on itself several minutes ago.

“Of course.”

“Any time today, I mean.”

The snark went unanswered and unpunished, just as it had any other time he’d made a snide comment. There was no way a man like Katakuri would miss the meaning of such things; he just didn’t seem to be bothered by them. He seemed to be a master of letting things slide, something Zoro had never been able to do.

Zoro.

The crew.

 _Stop thinking_.

“I’m told you identified the ingredients by smell alone.”

“Huh?” It was the first time Katakuri had spoken to him without being prompted, and for a moment Sanji didn’t realize what he meant. “Oh, the wedding cake. Yeah.”

“That cake was planned out over a month in advance. How did you manage to recreate it in a matter of hours?”

 _Okay, first of all_ \- “I didn’t recreate _your_ cake, I made _my_ cake based off what yours had been, and it was a shit-ton better, thank you very much. And second, I’m a chef. It’s my job, and I’m damn good at it.”

That wasn’t bragging, it was a statement. He _was_ damn good at his job, and he’d fought tooth and nail to gain an ounce of skill for every ounce of talent he already had. That cake had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to make, but without a doubt, it had been one of the best.

“So I’ve heard. Could you replicate the feat?”

“Finding ingredients by scent? Sure, I could.” It wasn’t too difficult; he had a sense for that sort of thing.

“Would you?”

“No.” He felt no guilt; his crew was safe. Big Mom’s rampant hunger had been sated. Pudding had escaped, and so had Chiffon. He owed the Charlotte family nothing.

Katakuri remained seated by his now-wilting soufflé, but the intensity of his gaze was burning. Sanji didn’t back down, returning the glare. He didn’t come this far, didn’t work this hard for his craft just to be bullied into using it by someone as petty as a mere Yonko Commander.

When Katakuri spoke, his voice was smooth, without even a hint of tension. “I’m willing to trade.”

The easy offer took him completely off-guard. Sanji had very seriously expected to be threatened. Now, it made sense that they’d let him off easy before; it’d make him easier to work with when they demanded his help later. But if he refused that, then they’d have no reason to play nice.

There had to be a trick somewhere in here. People who took prisoners didn’t offer to bargain with them as equals; that ruined the whole point of taking prisoners in the first place. “Free me.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Fair enough. “My friends are safe. What the hell do you think you have that I want?”

“How much do you want that personal kitchen?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates on this story definitely won't be coming as soon as this one did, because I had a rare block of free time and got a bunch written at once, but here you go!

He eyed the dish in front of him, scrutinizing it. He recognized it as a German chocolate cake right off the bat, but the smell that greeted him when it was placed in front of him differed quite a lot from what he’d traditionally expect. It was fresh out of the oven and clearly well-made, but there was a sweetness that didn’t match dark chocolate, a fruitiness one couldn’t get out of coconut…

“Juiced orange in the batter, sugar-toasted almonds in the filling. A little extra lemon for the topping, but that’s not too unusual. Other than that, it’s a standard German chocolate. The coconut is fresh from Jaya, not the cheap stuff from Binny Oat. A good choice.”

The chef who’d brought out the dish stared at Sanji as if in a daze, accepting the compliment with a nod of his head as Katakuri waved him away. Just as it had been with the five other dishes before this, Sanji wasn’t informed if his observations were correct.

It didn’t matter. He knew he was right. His senses hadn’t failed him once since his days at the Baratie, and the blank surprise on the faces of the chefs each time after Sanji guessed told him enough.

There were several more people lined up by the door, but Katakuri motioned for them to leave. He himself remained on the other side of the room, leaned up against the wall and flipping a jellybean up and down with his thumb, but Sanji felt the pressure in the air as the man focused on him. “I haven’t heard of this ability before. Where did you learn it?”

Sanji inwardly reveled at the acknowledgement. He knew he was good, but the fact that he had something an island full of the best chefs in the world didn’t was an entirely different boost to his ego. “Here and there. Some of it’s just natural, but most came from traveling around. Everything looks different depending on what island you’re on, so smell is one of the best ways to make sure you’re getting what you want.”

That wasn’t the whole truth. Ivankov had been pretty adamant about making sure Sanji could identify a variety of ingredients by scent alone, but the New Kamas’ methods of reinforcing his memory had been…unconventional. Sanji didn’t really want to think about it.

Katakuri seemed to accept that answer. “Why were you sailing with Strawhat Luffy?”

“I wasn’t. He’s kept me captive on his ship for years, beating me daily and forcing me to feed him. I’ve just managed to escape, and now I’m finally free. Can I get a ship back to North Blue?”

Katakuri stopped flipping his bean.

Sanji waited another moment to see if he really believed it, but the man didn’t speak, so he gave in. “He’s my captain, idiot. Of course I’d be sailing with him.”

Sanji was ready to dodge if he needed to, but there was no immediate repercussion for the insult. Katakuri’s movement resumed.

“How were you recruited?”

“None of your business.” It wouldn’t really be that hard to get the information; if the Charlottes had been able to track his history all the way back to the Baratie, they should easily be able to find someone who knew about the incident with Don Krieg. Hell, if Sanji remembered correctly, there had even been a couple of articles in the newspapers about it.

“I’m willing to trade.”

There it was again, that easy olive-branch offer. The way Katakuri seemed to be fine pretending that they weren’t jailer and prisoner was really messing with Sanji’s head. “Why the hell does this stuff matter to you? It’s not going to help you.”

“I’m interested in why a world-class chef would give up a safe life to travel with an unestablished rookie. It must be an extraordinary situation.” Katakuri waited until Sanji opened his mouth to add, “And I would be able to know.”

“I could just-” _make something up and you’d never know_.

Sanji didn’t bother finishing his sentence. He’d heard about the strength of Katakuri’s observation haki, but listening to rumors and seeing it in action were two completely different things. “Fine. But if you’re already giving me a kitchen, who says I want anything else?”

Katakuri uncrossed his arms, holding up a rectangular box between two fingers. The thing was dwarfed in his hand, but Sanji would recognize a pack of cigs anywhere.

_Fuck_. That was another thing he’d been trying not to think of. He’d had to go without smoke for long periods of time before, several times when he’d foolishly neglected restocking his stash between islands and once when Chopper had hid them from him for a week in the better interest of his lungs, so he’d been mentally prepared to go dry while he was a prisoner. But having a box of his favorite brand waved practically in front of his face…

“You left quite a few of these in your former residence in the palace. It’d be no difficulty for us to procure more.”

Sanji hesitated for a moment, gritting his teeth as he considered refusing just to see how Katakuri would react to it. Even if he’d made no attempt to hide his smoking habit, it still bothered him how easily Katakuri had gotten what he wanted. It wasn’t like telling his story would help the man any, but the _principle_ of it…

Whatever. He wanted a smoke a lot more than he wanted anything else right now. “Deal.”

A flick of his finger sent the pack flying across the room, and Sanji reached up and caught it with ease. His hand automatically went to his back pocket for his lighter, then he swore as he remembered he was wearing borrowed clothes. _That sneaky fucker_ …he’d probably have to trade something else for a lighter, why the hell hadn’t he thought of-

Sanji’s hand came up just in time to block the object from smacking him in the face, fingers closing over its cool metal surface.

“How were you recruited?” Katakuri asked, repeating his earlier question. He didn’t seem to care that he’d just given a bargaining chip away for free.

Sanji didn’t bother overthinking it, instead using the time to pull out a stick, light up, and take the drag he’d been dying for. “Pirates attacked the restaurant I worked at. Real mean fuckers, had a couple of ships and poison bombs with them. Luffy beat the shit out of them, so I felt like I owed it to him when he said he needed a cook. Been with him ever since.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

Of course there was, but that was technically the way he’d been ‘recruited.’ “Maybe. How would you know?”

“I can sense when you’re holding back.”

Sanji considered calling bullshit, but his curiosity got the better of him. Katakuri just wasn’t in a situation where he needed to lie; the guy was intimidating enough on his own. He took another long drag. “How? Is it a part of observation haki?”

“Perhaps.”

Sanji frowned. It was a fair turnabout, but half-answers were only fun when he was the one giving them. “Luffy can do it sometimes,” he offered. “He knows when people are upset.”

“I’m quite well acquainted with what your captain can and cannot do.”

Sanji had the slightest sense that Katakuri was mocking him. Normally, he would’ve mocked him right back, and in fact he’d just opened his mouth to do so when a better idea occurred to him. “I’m willing to trade,”

When Katakuri fixed him with a scrutinizing stare he grinned back. The man didn’t respond for a moment, but it didn’t take long for him to decide. “What are you offering?”

“I’ll answer any questions you have about why I’m in the crew. In return, you gotta answer my questions about what you can do.”

“That would be heavily tilted in your favor.”

“What? I’m just curious why you get to be big _and_ psychic, that’s all.” He was only half-joking when he said it; a lot of the enemies he’d faced who’d been physically strong to begin with had chosen to augment their strength with armament haki, and those who had been physically weaker had generally chosen to train in observation haki. Katakuri’s ability in the former had to be considerable if he’d taken on Luffy, but the man was known as a terror for his foresight, not his strength.

“I’ll consider it.”

It wasn’t a ‘no,’ so Sanji let it slide. Besides…“So, when do I get to see my kitchen?”

 

Apparently, the house was already fitted with a kitchen, behind one of the many doors that had been kept closed over the past few days. All of the appliances were human-sized, which confused him until he realized that it was likely built for a live-in chef instead of for Katakuri’s personal use.

It was a little dusty, having obviously lain unused for a good while, but it seemed to be fully furnished. Sanji recognized a massive walk-in refrigerator, an industrial rice cooker, and a stand mixer that stood taller than him from just a cursory glance.

The cabinets were empty, but before Sanji could even think of what he’d have to trade to get ingredients, Katakuri spoke up from behind him.

“Supplies will be arriving tomorrow.”

Sanji took in this new information. For someone who kept trying to get what he wanted through a trading system, Katakuri sure seemed to give out a lot of freebies. Wasn’t he the minister of flour or rice or something? How the hell was he running a business with that kind of attitude?

He turned his back to the dusty room, hating how far he had to look up just to meet the man’s eyes. “Great. Hey, quick question.”

“Because I’m curious.”

“Why the hell are you- goddamnit.” _Letting me do this_.

Sanji was annoyed enough at how Katakuri kept answering his questions before he’d even asked them, but what was really pissing him off was the answer itself.  “Oh, so you’re _curious_. What the hell am I, a pet project? Don’t you have a job or something?”

“You’re a very interesting person. I’d like to know what makes you function.”

Any other time, in any other context, he would have taken those words as a pretty sweet compliment. Any other time.

It was enough to fray the last of Sanji’s already-thin nerves. “You keep saying shit like that, but you don’t even know me. I didn’t even know you _existed_ until the wedding! For fuck’s sake, you shot at me! You were all trying to kill me! And now it’s ‘you’re interesting’ and ‘what makes you function’? What the fuck is going on?”

Katakuri seemed to think on that for a moment, leaning up against the doorframe to the entrance of the room. Sanji hated how easily the man came across as calm and collected after he’d just railed his head off at him. “Were you aware of your father’s opinion of you?”

_What the fuck does that have to do with anything?_ “Judge? The thing where he calls me a useless waste of energy and not-his-kid? Yeah, I’ve heard it before.”

“When speaking with Mama, he pretended that you were like your siblings, and that you’d just chosen to go to sea instead of remain with him. In private, he was different. He didn’t realize that everything has ears here, and they all report to Mama.”

Sanji had noticed the homies in cups, plates, tables, and even pictures on the walls. He’d always known he was being watched, but Katakuri seemed to be implying that Judge had been careless. “You thought I was just a failure, because that’s what he thought of me. Yeah, I get it. So what?”

“We had never planned to allow your family to leave alive, but the fact that he was attempting to double-cross Mama by presenting a cast-off as a groom instead of one of his modified children was enough to doom him. People do not attempt to trick Mama and survive. We had no need for a useless ally, so you would have been killed as well.”

Sanji was starting to see where this was going. “But I wasn’t useless, was I? You just didn’t know it.”

“A common sea-cook traveling with a rookie pirate crew is not generally a wealth of culinary expertise. We had no reason to believe that you were anything special. Had we known what you were capable of, I assure you, the situation would have gone much differently.”

Sanji couldn’t help it at that; he had to laugh. It was a short, bitter laugh, and it left a bad taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the cigarette he’d just finished. He could feel Katakuri’s hard gaze on him, and it didn’t take foresight to know what the man’s next question would be.

Sanji pulled out another stick and lit up again; he needed the nicotine if he was going to be talking about his family. “That’s exactly why I was a failure to him, you know. Because I wanted to cook, instead of fight. He said I’d die alone in some dirty alley, trying to make food while the others were out winning wars. It’s just fucking gets me that after all this time, they’d have died and I’d have lived only because of my goddamn cooking.”

Katakuri didn’t seem to care to respond to that, but Sanji didn’t need a response. With this new information, it wasn’t hard to finally make sense of his whole fucked-up situation, and he planned to take advantage of the silence by putting the entire twisted thing out in the air.

“You didn’t know about my cooking before the cake, so you didn’t care about me. You tried your goddamn best to kill me and my crew because we wrecked your party, simple as that. Then Big Mom went on her rampage and you didn’t have what she needed. I made the cake, it calmed her down, but my crew wasn’t out of range yet.”

Katakuri made no attempt to acknowledge or deny what he was saying, so after a short moment Sanji continued.

“The cake works, we’re on our way out but you have a whole fleet of ships after us and Big Mom’s ready to go. I jump ship to go fight her, for whatever dumbass fucking reason-” his head was still foggy on that, his memories hadn’t gotten any clearer in the days since, “-and you realize what you’ve got by having me. You let my crew go. You’ve got what you want.”

Still no answer from Katakuri.

“You know killing them would make me hate you, so you don’t chase after them. You find me, you treat me and give me food and a place to stay, but you tell me I’m just a prisoner. Then you test me. You make sure I can replicate what I did with the cake. You give me a kitchen and supplies so I can cook, because you want to test me there too. You tell me I’m skilled, you say I’m interesting, you make me feel comfortable…I get it. You’re trying to recruit me. You want me to leave Luffy and join you instead.”

Stating it outright was finally enough to have Katakuri respond. “That would be ideal, yes.”

At this point, Sanji hadn’t really needed the confirmation, but it felt nice to hear it anyway. “Tough shit then. You’ll just be disappointed. I’d never leave my crew.”

“Interesting,” Katakuri said, tone as frustratingly even as always, still casually relaxed against the doorframe. “We’ll just have to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Katakuri stopped flipping his bean"
> 
> Listen, I have had to read/edit/look at a shit-ton of very badly written porn in my lifetime, and I can tell you that a sentence very much like this one was used in a serious pornographic situation because the author was crazy insistent on using the word 'bean' for clitoris. 
> 
> I had to write this sentence with my Own Two Hands because it fits what he's doing in the story, and that memory is all that I can see when I read it. Now you too can suffer.


	3. Chapter 3

Now that Sanji knew exactly what was going down with his situation, he put his best effort into enjoying all the perks. He didn’t care one bit about wasting the Charlotte family’s time and resources; when Luffy came to get him, he wouldn’t even look back.

He spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, dusting and washing and scrubbing until his injured foot throbbed. The cast the doctors had removed to check on his leg had never been replaced, so it was much easier to walk, but the chains that bound his wrists and ankles still made it difficult to move.

Sanji would have seen if he could trade for them off, but Katakuri had left shortly after he started cleaning. He hadn’t said anything, just directed Sanji to where he could find soap and towels before walking out the front door. An offer had been made to have it cleaned up for him, but Sanji had staunchly refused. It was _his_ kitchen now, and he wasn’t going to let a bunch of strangers mess around in it.

There was a mirror in the kitchen, big enough to take up a large portion of the wall directly across from where he’d be doing most of the cooking. Sanji considered calling out to it and seeing if anyone would respond; there was no way he’d been left completely unsupervised. Was there someone assigned to always watch him? Was there a group of fighters ready to jump in if he tried to break out? Was Katakuri himself on standby?

Sanji was incredibly tempted to mess with whoever might be on the other side of the mirror. He sorely wanted to move the thing to where it couldn’t see him, but with his hands tied he wouldn’t be able to properly lift it. He could crack it, but he was certain that would bring down the wrath of whatever mystery being was behind it.

In the end, he decided to let it go. He knew now that they wouldn’t kill him, but if he rebelled too much there was a chance he might be placed under tighter security, with a lot less freedom.

Even worse, he might lose his kitchen.

 

By the time the place had been set up to his standards, Katakuri had returned. Sanji had walked out of his perfectly spotless kitchen to see the man sitting at the massive table, empty plate in front of him. The normal-sized table and chair from his room had been dragged out and placed near Katakuri, and he could see the dome of a serving dish there.

Today, dinner was tiramisu. It was delicious as always, but he couldn’t wait to eat a proper meal again.

Katakuri watched him the whole time he was eating. When he was done, Sanji leaned back in his chair and pointed a fork at the man. “Why are you always doing that?”

Katakuri didn’t ask for clarification. “You’re in my care. I’m supposed to be looking after you.”

There he went again, making Sanji feel like a little kid. “What the hell am I gonna do, choke to death? On _tiramisu_?”

Katakuri’s gaze was sharp. “Prisoners have tried to choose that way out before.”

That made Sanji pause. He’d never considered suicide an option before and never would, but he had to wonder how the man planned to stop him if he tried. “And you could keep that from happening?”

“I’d advise you not to,” Katakuri said, instead of answering his question. The way he phrased it made Sanji realize he’d picked up on the ‘ _what if I did’_ that had been left unsaid. “From what I’ve heard, it would be a waste of talent.”

At least they could agree on something. “Yeah, it would be.”

 

The next day, looking down at the massive array of food he’d prepared, Sanji was redoubled in his confidence. Sure, the ingredients he’d been provided had been top-notch, from the excellent cuts of meat to the raw spices he’d been allowed to grind up to his liking, but it was his work that had made this meal a _masterpiece_.

Technically, all of his dishes were; he never allowed anything that wasn’t absolute perfection to leave his kitchen. But this time, he’d really outdone himself. The shackles around his wrists had been removed to allow him to cook, and in this kitchen he had access to everything he’d had on the Sunny. The feeling of finally having knives back in his hands and a stove in front of him had made him want to go wild, and he’d let loose and made some of the most difficult dishes he knew.

Looking at them now, he knew he hadn’t lost a thing by missing weeks of practice.

It took the largest of the serving trays that he’d managed to find yesterday, but he’d been able to arrange everything so he could take it out in one trip. It really was a massive amount of food, each portion almost Luffy-sized.

When he’d left in the morning, Katakuri had told him to cook for three.

“Three of _me_ , or three of _you_?” Sanji had asked, after grudgingly agreeing. He didn’t take orders from anyone but his captain, but he’d been dying to flex his skills a little and knew that the amount of food he wanted to cook far exceeded the amount of food he would be able to eat alone.

Katakuri had told him to account for ‘two and a half’ of his own almost-giant size, which really didn’t help, but he’d been out the door before Sanji could ask for clarification.

 If he did the math, each Katakuri-sized person would eat about three times as much as one normal-sized person, but he’d seen the size of the soufflé the man been served the other day; it had to be almost five times the size his had been. Five times a serving, times two ‘and a half’ people was…a shit-ton of food.

So here he was, balancing almost twenty pounds of seafood paella and toasted cheeses between two hands, wondering how the hell he was going to get all of it up on a table that was taller than him.

 

He’d just finished shoving the conveniently step-on-able dresser back into his room when he sensed Katakuri returning. The man’s intense aura was familiar to him now, but there were two other people with him who were strong enough for him to ‘see.’ It was perfect timing; Sanji had assumed they’d come when lunch was usually served, so he’d made sure the paella and cheeses would be finished just before then.

Sanji was waiting by the table when the door opened.

Katakuri was first, followed by a woman his height dressed in sweet pastels and a shorter but still towering man in a multicolored suit and hat.

_Smoothie. Perospero_. He remembered both of them from the wedding and its aftermath. Smoothie had been relentless in chasing the Sunny, and Perospero had been the reason one of their Mink allies had given up his own life. Each of them had been responsible for the near-deaths of his crewmembers multiple times during their escape.

Sanji wondered at the logic in bringing two of the other strongest Big Mom pirates to a meal made by a prisoner. He already thought it was a little overkill to have Katakuri himself guard him; didn’t these people have better things to do than taste-test for _one_ potential future chef?

But looking at all three together as they walked to the table in the middle of the room, Sanji knew that whatever they were doing, they were wasting their time.

There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d ever consider turning away from his crew to join them. The mere fact that they thought they _could_ persuade him to join was crazy, laughable even; these people were nothing to him but enemies.

Sanji was regretting his decision to cook for them now, hating how he’d gotten so excited over being able to practice his skill that he’d agreed to serve people he detested. The fridge in the kitchen was plenty large enough to hold all the food he’d prepared, and he had no issues eating the same meal for a week if it meant he didn’t have to feed it to the Charlottes…

But he felt a well-known twinge in his stomach, a knot in his gut that told him someone nearby was hungry, and that was made him step forward towards two people who might’ve killed his crew and one that was probably just as bad and offer them all drinks with their lunch.

 

Katakuri was gone from the table when Sanji returned with a tray of glasses, and Sanji frowned to see that a large portion of the paella was missing as well. He hadn’t sensed the man leave, still feeling his presence nearby, but he couldn’t imagine why someone would walk away right as a meal had been served.

“He prefers to eat alone,” Smoothie informed him when he handed her the glass of sparkling water she’d requested. She produced a piece of black volcanic rock from somewhere in her attire, squeezing it to produce juice in the same trick she’d used to make drinks at the tea party. “It won’t take him long, he’ll be back before we’re finished.”

“Perhaps it will take him longer, sister.” Perospero accepted his glass of sweet champagne, leaning down from the lump of candy he’d used to put himself on eye level with his siblings at the table. “A creation such as this is meant to be enjoyed.”

Sanji accepted the compliment with a nod and a murmured thanks, but he could feel the man’s watchful eye on him as he turned back to the kitchen. There was no taster with them to test for poison, and though Sanji would never disgrace his food with such a thing, the Charlottes would be fools to be so trusting. Everything he’d prepared had been in full view of the mirror on the kitchen wall, but still…

He wondered once again why they had been the ones to try his food. Surely choosing chefs wasn’t a job only suited for the highest-ranking members of the Charlotte family, and they had to know that most prisoners of his type would sabotage their meals in an instant. Perhaps they’d only pretend to eat it now, as a way to make him think he had their trust, while Katakuri secretly tested it out of view.

It made sense. Eating alone was one thing, but insisting on it even after he’d invited his other siblings to lunch? That was another.

But the itch inside of him that he felt whenever someone was hungry was lessening as time went on; they were actually eating his food. Within the relative safety of his own space, Sanji relaxed a little, having his own lunch out of the portions of dishes he’d set aside for himself. He usually hated eating alone, but in this case it was better than having to sit alongside people who’d tried to kill him.

Sanji went out a few more times, to refill drinks and remove serving plates as they were no longer needed. Somewhere between trips, Katakuri returned to the table, silently handing over his empty plate. Smoothie and Perospero praised him for his dishes, but only once, and only after they’d finished everything.

It was probably for the better; each time they addressed him, he had to fight the urge to tell them all to go fuck themselves. It would have been supremely satisfying…for all of two seconds, until he got his ass kicked by three of the strongest Big Mom pirates. With his ankles still chained and his body still a few weeks away from fighting shape, it would be an incredibly one-sided beatdown. Another month of recovery for him, probably, and only a few moments of reward.

But _god_ , what the looks on their faces would be…He barely kept himself in check.

When he finished his own lunch and came back for the last of the plates, they were all talking together. It was a mundane conversation about how much of this and that they would need to ‘re-bake’ a certain important building, but none of it was interesting or useful in the slightest to Sanji; he was sure that was intentional.

Just before he stepped in to the kitchen with the last load of dishes, he turned around to make sure none were left on the table, and something caught in the back of his mind. _Smoothie…Katakuri…Perospero…_

There was something familiar about the scene with all three of them together that he couldn’t put his finger on. They’d all been present at the tea party, but sitting at opposite ends of the chateau, so it couldn’t have been then…when had he seen them like this?

It couldn’t be when he was rescuing Luffy; Perospero had gone with Big Mom to chase the cake. It couldn’t have been after saving his captain, with Smoothie and Perospero behind them, because Katakuri had already jumped back through the mirrors to get to Liquor Island. It had definitely been all three of them, and something about the setup with Smoothie on the left and Perospero on the right-

A massive spike of pain jolted straight through his brain, pounding at the front of his skull. Sanji stumbled, right hand flying out to grab on to the wall as he nearly dropped all the plates in his left. The pressure was sudden and excruciating, and utterly overpowering in the way usually only conqueror’s haki could be.

_Had the Charlottes attacked him?_ Luffy had warned him that Katakuri was capable of it, but this felt far too strong for someone Luffy had been able to take on. And what would he have done to provoke them? Stare too long?

The pain faded just as suddenly as it had come. Sanji stood quickly, every nerve on edge, ready to defend himself.

None of the Charlottes had even looked up from their discussion.

If he hadn’t felt his skin prickling with the awareness that someone was watching him, he’d have thought they didn’t even notice him. He sensed the pressure of Katakuri’s focus on him though the man was fully engaged in his siblings’ conversation, but even that felt far more curious than malicious.

He cast out with his senses and felt no other presence nearby. It had just been a weird headache, probably caused by the stress of moving around so much when he was still recovering from his injuries.

Sanji turned on his heel and went back into his kitchen, swearing as his foot throbbed. He couldn’t wait to be back to normal again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Cook for two and a half."
> 
> "Honey, you better bring the top half, then. I'm not feeding a pair of legs."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally pulled Legend Sanji in OPTC, so this is in celebration! I actually pulled him last night, but I had to edit…
> 
> Things are finally picking up! I’m so proud of myself for actually writing three chapters' worth of a proper intro instead of just jumping right in like I usually do.

The next few days, Katakuri stayed out again, and Sanji was left on his own.

He spent most of his time in his kitchen, making his own meals. He kept forgetting that it was only himself he was cooking for; he kept catching himself grabbing the biggest pans and reaching for whole packs of flour. The second time he made breakfast, he caught on too late, and ended up eating leftover pancakes for the rest of the day.

The time he didn’t spend cleaning and rearranging his kitchen was spent on training. He couldn’t do much with his ankles still bound, but he practiced handstands until he got his balance back, and started devising methods of attacking bigger enemies. He’d fought plenty of them before, and his sky walk allowed him to go as high as he needed, but if he was going to face up against someone like Katakuri he’d need far more versatility while in the air.

An enclosed space would be the best for his chances of landing an attack, with the speed boosts he’d get from kicking off walls and floors, but his dodging ability would suffer with less area to escape to. There, he’d be an easy target for jellybeans or one of those massive punches. A fully open area was also a no-go; Katakuri could be far more versatile in a place where he had enough room to move.

That didn’t mean he planned on challenging the man. He wasn’t stupid; Katakuri was far above his level, and in a head-on fight Sanji knew he’d lose. The man was so tall that landing a damaging hit on him would be hard enough, and even without his ability and foresight he was a formidable foe. With everything together, the chances of winning were far too slim to bet on.

How fast he was, however, was a different matter. Katakuri had to be giving up something by being as big as he was, and the logical answer was speed. The guy still had to be pretty quick, or Luffy would’ve had a much easier time with him, but Sanji had always been faster than his captain. Yes, speed was definitely something he was willing to bet on.

Whether he’d get the opportunity to make a run for it was another deal altogether. He was certain that whatever was outside of the house, even if it was the team of snipers Katakuri claimed were there, wouldn’t be as much of a threat as the Sweet Commander himself. If he could just get a look outside, however, he could be a lot more confident…

But that didn’t matter right now. What he had to focus on was recovery, healing and getting himself back into fighting shape. If he wasn’t at least at that when Luffy came for him, then he could forget about getting away.

Sanji sensed an approaching presence, coming down from his handstand. Katakuri was back early today; Sanji’s inner clock said it was still several hours until dinner.

He managed to make it back to his kitchen with a few seconds to spare, snagging a towel to wipe down the perfectly-clean sink as the door to the house opened. He doubted he’d be punished for practicing his balance, but as a rule it wasn’t good to let your captors see that you were getting stronger.

 

“We’ve captured your family,” Katakuri said, tone completely even as he pulled a chair aside and sat down at the table.

Sanji’s heart stopped beating for a moment, his lungs seizing up as the air caught in his throat. He’d walked out to greet the man with some snarky comment or another, but it had flown right out of his head.

_Oh god,_ _Reiju._

No, he couldn’t let it show that he cared; he’d be handing his reigns straight over to Katakuri. It took him a few moments to compose himself before he could speak through the lump in his windpipe, but when he finally gathered his wits, he was in control. “And how does this concern me?”

Katakuri regarded him with an intense gaze, crossing his arms. The man seemed to communicate mostly through his eyes; it was fitting considering how much of his face was hidden. “Your family’s technology is invaluable to us.”

“They’re not my family.” Even if he did care about Reiju, he’d never claim the name of Vinsmoke. It stank too much of Judge.

“And yet, they chose to offer you for the marriage.”

“I’m a throwaway. Judge didn’t want to waste one of _his precious sons_ on a marriage, remember?” Sanji was rather proud of the amount of sheer disgust he was able to fit into those words. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? You told me you were always going to kill them.”

 “Of course.”

The bastard didn’t even pretend to sound guilty about it. Then again, Sanji didn’t blame him. From what it sounded like, Judge had never had any intention of trading fairly.

Katakuri was still staring at him. “You hate your family.”

Sanji had the fleeting, odd sense that he was being observed like an experiment, but it passed quickly. “They’re not-”

“You hate them,” Katakuri corrected.

Sanji scowled. “I thought that was obvious. Why all of the-”

“Would you kill them?”

_What?_

The question was unexpected, but the answer was easy. He’d considered the idea only once before, the night they had clamped exploding shackles to his wrists and told him they’d have the Baratie in flames if he tried to resist; it had been enough to have him vomiting the entire night, sick with the thought.

Sanji still couldn’t see what the man was trying to get at, though. “No, I wouldn’t. Why the hell do you-”

“Would you care if I did?”

Sanji’s blood ran cold.

“We were able to catch up to them and take control of their entire fleet. We have their technology. We no longer need them alive.”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck-_

“You seem to be upset.” Katakuri’s gaze was zeroed in on him, and deep in his gut, Sanji could feel that he _knew_.

_Calm, just stay calm, Sanji._ He still had cards here. “If you hurt them, I’ll never join you.”

“You’ve already said that you’ll never join us. I don’t see how this would have any further negative impact.”

He was _stupid_ , how could he have been so _goddamn stupid_ , saying that? Were they already giving up on him? Had he pushed a little too far, somewhere? Had they decided his food wasn’t worth it?

_How had he fucked this up so badly?_

_Reiju_. He had to save them, had to salvage this.

“What do you want? I’ll trade, I’m willing.” Sanji’s words sounded pitiful in his own ears, the pathetic last attempt of somebody who’d been trapped in a corner and was just now realizing it.

Katakuri hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted, hadn’t even changed expression since the conversation began. “But they aren’t your family. I don’t see how it’s fair to give something up for people who mean nothing to you.”

“I…they…” He didn’t have an answer, didn’t have a good reason even when rationalizing it to himself, but he _couldn’t just let it happen._ “It doesn’t fucking matter, just tell me what you fucking want!”

Finally, there was some change on Katakuri’s face. The man tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he looked down at Sanji on the ground. He seemed to be considering something, but it didn’t matter to Sanji; he’d give him damn near anything he asked for at this point.

The man finally seemed to come to a decision, uncrossing his arms and resting them on top of the table. “Very well.”

Sanji couldn’t breathe. Had he done it? Had it been enough?

“I can’t think of anything worth as little as their lives. There’s no point in trading. I’ll give the order to have them out of the way before-”

Sanji’s foot was whipping out before Katakuri even finished his sentence, fire sparking around his shoe. He pushed himself up off the ground with one hand, aiming high for a shot at the man’s face.

His foot hit something that didn’t yield, his entire leg lighting up in pain at the impact, and before he could spin around to strike with his other leg he was slammed down hard on the table. The change was so unexpected that he didn’t process it right away, sucking nonexistent air with his lungs until he realized the impact had knocked the breath out of him.

“Fucker,” he wheezed, fingers tearing at the hand holding him down. His nails caught in the thick dough of mochi, the sticky substance spreading to cover him. He tried to draw his legs back in to kick out, but they were held tight underneath the weight. The chains still bound him; he couldn’t even stretch out far enough to get a foot outside of the trap. “Don’t you fucking move, you bastard, I’ll _fucking kill you_!”

Katakuri towered over him, standing at his full height. His arm was stretched outwards to keep Sanji pinned to the table, and the intensity of his gaze was searing. When he spoke, his voice was as even as ever. “You’re in no condition to be fighting.”

“ _Don’t fucking touch them!_ ” He’d covered his legs with haki, but all he could feel was the mochi around him. The guy had to have a body somewhere, something he could hit, he just had to find it.

“Calm down.”

“ _I’m going to fucking kill you, you piece of shit!_ ” He rolled all of his weight onto his back, pushing his legs up above him to strike at the arm holding him down. He felt something give in his lower back, something that cracked loud and made black spots swarm across his vision. Cold bolts of pain skittered along his spine and left him paralyzed, limbs twitching uselessly.

The familiar pressure of conqueror’s haki was suddenly bearing down on him, a rush that felt far more real than the headache he’d had the other day. He could feel himself going under, weakened and trapped and unable to move. He’d normally never succumb to it, but he was so weak, and it _hurt_ …

His vision was more dark than light now. His head was pounding, all sound echoing as if from far away, the relentless weight on his chest keeping him from taking a breath.

  _No! No, I can’t…he’ll kill them, no no no-_

Sanji passed out.

 

He came awake all at once, panic seizing his limbs and jolting him upright. Agony forced him back down, and he squeezed his eyes shut and swore in a solid stream until the wave passed.

Katakuri’s voice was the first thing he heard. “I won’t touch them.”

At the realization he was there, Sanji’s thoughts went immediately to Reiju. “ _Don’t fucking_ …”

The words died in his throat as he registered what the man had said, though Sanji didn’t trust him for an instant. He gave himself a few moments, listening to the erratic beating of his heart in his chest as it gradually came down from his adrenaline rush, and exhaled.

He was in his bed, in ‘his’ room. Everything hurt again, just like it had when he’d first woken up; he’d probably re-broken everything that had healed over the past weeks. He wasn’t too concerned with himself; he had time. The Germa, on the other hand…

“I won’t let you see them, but they won’t be hurt.” Katakuri had brought in a chair from the main room and set it up a few meters from Sanji’s bed. He was sitting, one leg over the other with his arms crossed, flipping a jellybean.

When Sanji tried to speak again, he coughed on the first word. His throat was painfully dry and hoarse from screaming.

“I’ve sent for a medical team,” Katakuri informed him as Sanji swallowed several times in an attempt to get his voice back. “You weren’t ready for that kind of exertion.”

Sanji couldn’t care less about that at the moment. He had only one concern, and it was the growing suspicion that Katakuri had been far too ready for their conversation. “Do you…even have them?”

Katakuri didn’t ask for clarification. “Yes.”

“How?” They could’ve been halfway back to Sabaody by now, depending on how long he’d been unconscious after being beaten by Big Mom.

“They’ve remained at the edges of our territory, harassing the outer islands every few hours. Their snails are more versatile than our ships, but it took little effort to overpower them once they were cornered.”

That made sense, in a way. Judge’s dreams of taking over the North Blue had been irredeemably crushed by Big Mom turning on him, and his siblings had never really cared for it anyway. The Germa didn’t have a place to go back to, and there certainly wasn’t anywhere they’d be safe. All they could really do was cause as much damage as possible to the ones who had betrayed them, so that’s what they did; just make a fuss, be an annoyance, until they inevitably got snuffed out by one of the many stronger powers around them.

“It was a test,” Sanji said aloud, as if it mattered. Katakuri had been watching him so closely the entire time; he’d known exactly what he wanted from the beginning. “Of loyalty, of family, of how far I’d be willing to go…It doesn’t matter. It was just another one of your goddamn tests.”

“I didn’t expect you to attempt a physical attack,” Katakuri admitted. “I can’t decide if it speaks for you or against you.”

The confession caught Sanji by surprise. Katakuri’s attitude towards him kept changing, acting as if they were equals one minute and sworn enemies the next. The nonchalance with which he treated everything was getting on Sanji’s nerves, and he felt his anger rising once again. “Why the fuck are you doing this? Messing with me, like this? Do you get off on this shit?”

“You’re quite the interesting case. No one has been able to disrupt our operations to this extent since even the very beginning. It’s necessary to understand who you are and how you work in order to prevent such a disaster from occurring again.”

Sanji didn’t have the energy left to filter himself. “Does it even fucking matter? Luffy’s going to beat that woman anyway, and it won’t make a goddamn difference how much work you put into trying to stop it.”

Above anything else, he expected this to be the thing that would finally get him a reaction. A direct challenge to the leader of their family, an absolutely shameless declaration that everything Katakuri had spent his life working to build up would fall down. There was no way such a thing could go unanswered.

The jellybean bounced in the air, up and down, up and down. “Hmm.”

Nothing else. Sanji could have just noted that the weather looked like rain, for all Katakuri seemed to care.

It confused him. It pissed him off. He wanted to question it. He wanted to rage at it.

But he was tired.

His anger was fading away; he couldn’t hold on to it, couldn’t work himself back up again. The emotional upheaval the whole ordeal had caused had left him mentally and physically exhausted. His foot ached, his head hurt, there was mochi stuck under his fingernails, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

“You should stay awake. The doctors will need to question you.”

Sanji took in this information. “Hey.” _I fucking hate you_.

“I’m aware.”

“Ah. Good.”


	5. Chapter 5

Katakuri surprised him by being the one to start the conversation. “You mentioned you were willing to disclose why you joined Strawhat Luffy?”

It took Sanji a solid ten seconds of staring blankly up at the man before he remembered that particular conversation. It felt like months had passed since that day, even though it had hardly been more than a week. “Oh. Yeah, I was. Are you gonna tell me about your foresight?”

“Would you accept another offer?”

“Sure, whatever. Shoot.” At this point, Sanji could use a little something interesting. He’d been stuck in bed for three days after the doctors reset his leg, and they hadn’t even let him up to cook his own food.

Katakuri didn’t seem to be affected by his less-than-enthusiastic response. “I could give you a tour of the islands.”

The opportunity to leave the house took him by surprise, but it was pretty easy to see why Katakuri would allow it. “Familiarizing me with my future home, I see.”

“You’re welcome to decline.”

“Nah, I’ll take it.” It was better than he could have hoped for; even though Sanji knew Katakuri had an ulterior motive behind the offer, his muscles were aching from the lack of use that came from total bed rest. His foot itched from being stuck in the cast, but if he took it off, he doubted that he’d even be able to walk. “Hey, you gonna carry me around? Cause that’d be real _sweet_ of you, mister _commander._ ”

He was also on quite a lot of painkillers. About three times as much as Chopper usually prescribed, to be exact.

Katakuri gave him no response, not even a slight tilt of the head to indicate he’d heard him.

“Oh, fuck you. That was a good one.” The past few days spent with only Katakuri as company had taught him that sassing the man was harmless, albeit frustrating when some of his best lines went ignored.

Again, Katakuri gave no response. The only noise was the repetitive tap of a jellybean bouncing against his thumb, a sound Sanji was growing increasingly annoyed by as time went on.

The chair Katakuri had brought in the other day was still there, and the man had spent most of his time sitting there and flipping beans with his eyes closed. It was unnerving as hell, having a big silent leather-covered giant camping out in his room while he recovered, so Sanji had taken up trying to make conversation whenever he could. It didn’t help that the man almost never spoke up unless addressed directly.

He decided to try again. “So does this mean you’ll let me out of bed?”

“Tomorrow. The doctors will allow you to see the closer islands. It will take several days to tour all of Mama’s territories, and you should be well enough to travel to the outer islands by then.”

_Several days?_ So this tour would be the real thing. Sanji hadn’t honestly expected that much from one measly little trade, but then again, both ends of the deal were meant to benefit the Charlottes.

Whatever, it would give him something to do. “So what exactly did you want to know about me and Luffy?”

The jellybean stopped bouncing, Katakuri finally turning his full attention to Sanji. “You spoke of the incident that brought you together, but why did you really choose to join him?”

Sanji thought over it for a moment, trying to find the best way to explain it and eventually settling on the simplest one. “My goal is to find the All Blue. Always has been, even since I was a kid. I had plenty of chances to go out on my own, but…I guess Luffy was the first person I met that made me believe I could actually do it.”

Katakuri frowned at him. Or maybe the man was just thinking really hard; it was difficult to tell without being able to see his mouth. “He made you believe you could do it? What do you mean?”

That was the thing he couldn’t really explain. Sanji shrugged, hands up in a ‘hell-if-I-know’ kind of way. “You fought him, didn’t you? You had to have seen it. He’s special…it’s like being around him changes something in you, and you don’t even know what it was, but everything feels different.”

It sounded silly when he said it like that, and Katakuri’s piercing glare reflected what he thought of it, but Sanji was sticking by his explanation. There really just wasn’t a better way to describe what Luffy did to people. “Everyone he’s met says the same thing. He really does change people. When’s the last time a guy who tried to kill you, whose ass you fucking _obliterated_ , agreed to help you break out of the strongest prison in the world? Does that just happen for you?”

“I do not leave my opponents alive,” Katakuri informed him. “And I have never been incarcerated.”

Sanji threw up his hands. “You know what I meant, you big rice ball!”

Yeah, it had been a _lot_ of painkillers.

 

The presence of homies had been notably absent from Katakuri’s home, but Sanji had written that down as being part of a desire for privacy, or maybe for not wanting to hear your walls singing at three in the morning. However, that absence was much more pronounced when he walked outside.

When he’d first arrived on Whole Cake Island, he couldn’t go five feet without running into a talking rock or cup or random giant chess piece, but now it seemed they were nowhere to be found. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen any when he’d woken up, either. They’d paraded him halfway across the island to get to Katakuri’s house, and while there had been plenty of trees all around, not a single one had moved.

Now, seeing the island unusually silent and still, it was simple enough to put two and two together. He’d thought they had pulled the ‘our boss is still recovering so that’s why you’re not dead yet’ card just to keep up the charade that he really was just a prisoner, but now it was obvious that they’d been telling the truth. “Big Mom’s still not up yet, huh?”

Katakuri was walking beside him, long strides slowed to a snail’s pace in order to stay next to Sanji. “No.”

Though the man hadn’t responded at all to his earlier digs at the Charlotte’s matriarch, Sanji couldn’t resist giving it another go. The painkillers left in his system loosened his mouth, and the constant clunking of his cast as he dragged it around made him want to take out his annoyance on the person who’d been directly responsible for it. “Seems like I really did a number on her, then. Maybe she’ll die, and you’ll have to elect another mom. Hey, I’m sure there’s plenty of better ones to choose from.”

As usual, Katakuri ignored the bite in Sanji’s remark. “She’s completely uninjured.”

_Of course she is_. He was more surprised at the fact that he’d actually survived the fight than at he was at finding out he hadn’t even managed to scratch her. Sure, by then she would’ve known about his capabilities as a chef and may have wanted to keep him alive, but she really didn’t seem like the type to take a direct challenge well. After all, she had been pretty pissed already when he’d jumped over…

Sanji stopped suddenly, struggling to catch on to the tail end of his thought. When he’d gone to fight her, she _had_ been angry, hadn’t she? He couldn’t picture her face, features fuzzy and distorted in his head, but he remembered hearing some kind of ungodly shrieking coming from-

He doubled over as the pain nailed him right between the eyes, dropping to one knee and throwing out a hand to keep from falling over completely. The ache was a dull but powerful hammer in his skull, scattering his thoughts as he squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. One beat of agony, two beats, three…and then it was gone.

The headache had still caught him by surprise, but he’d been more ready for it this time. Having been recently reacquainted with conqueror’s haki through Katakuri, he could definitely feel the similarities, but even that had been more like heavy pressure than actual pain this was. It had to be just a headache, but the fact that both times it had hit him had been when he was trying to remember something was enough to make him suspicious.

Katakuri had paused right beside him, perfectly in line, without even missing a beat. Just like it had been the first time, his gaze was curious.

_Bastard must’ve seen it coming_. Sanji scowled up at him. “A warning would’ve been nice, you know.”

Katakuri raised an eyebrow in an expression that could be taken to mean a million different things. Really, it was just too hard to read the guy with half of his face covered up. “Perhaps you need more time to rest.”

Sanji hurriedly pushed himself back up, striding forward again at a fast pace. It had been torture enough, sitting through the whole rest of the day yesterday knowing that freedom was so close; he couldn’t imagine having to go back to bedrest after finally getting a taste of fresh air.

Katakuri kept up right alongside him, a silent but constant presence. During their walk, he’d reverted back to the way he’d been in previous days, only speaking when Sanji addressed him.

So far, they’d passed through what Sanji learned was Crepe Town, the village where Katakuri’s house was. Sanji wouldn’t have been able to recognize it as a Sweet Commander’s residence if he hadn’t seen it from the outside on his first day awake; it was big, and a little out of the way from the rest of the houses, but there were no specials signs or decorations that told anyone who it belonged to. The town itself was relatively large, the whole place drenched in jam and smelling of powdered sugar, and Sanji had found himself asking a ton of questions just about the buildings themselves.

He’d learned that they had entire ships that were massive ovens, tasked with sailing to different islands and baking sweets that would be used in construction, and that houses were torn down regularly to be ‘re-baked’ with tastier materials. Apparently, Katakuri’s house was the oldest structure, as he rarely changed it.

The place was stuffed full of people, many of them dressed in aprons dusted with a heavy layer of flour. Sanji got plenty of stares as he passed through the streets, but most of the citizens’ attention was on Katakuri; several people even tossed multicolored pastries on the path in front of him as he passed by, all of which were snatched up by tiny hands as soon as they hit the ground.

There really was an unusually large number of children running around, swooping past adults and snagging bits of crepe off of market stalls to munch on. They were the ones who seemed the least afraid of him, stopping in the streets to ogle him with their mouths wide open before somebody older tugged them away.

Katakuri didn’t seem to have any problem speaking to him with other people around, which was surprising; Sanji had assumed that his supposed treatment of him as an equal would be something he’d rather keep hidden, but as long as the man was talking, he wouldn’t complain. He’d even learned that the town had a class system of sorts, with the best bakers and chefs having access to the biggest and most well-equipped homes.

“So where would I be, if I joined up?” Sanji had asked, out of sheer curiosity.

“You would be placed into Mama’s personal staff, and your residence would be in the Whole Cake palace. Once it’s been rebuilt, of course.”

_Servant to the biggest bitch herself_. How lucky. Although…if she had a team of the best chefs a Yonko could find, it would be a prime opportunity to improve his own skills before rejoining with Luffy. “So, when do I get to meet these guys?”

“You’re welcome to see them, but I assure you, they have nothing to teach you.”

Sanji’s mind had frozen, midway between thoughts of what he might learn. Had he been too obvious? Had Katakuri read his mind? Could observation haki even let somebody _do_ that?

“Brother Perospero and Sister Smoothie were quite clear in their opinion of your ability,” Katakuri had continued, without pausing. “The others were given the chance to create the same dishes, and they were unable to match you.”

“Ah, I see.” Sanji had relaxed, acknowledging the inherent compliment with a nod as an afterthought. He was just being stupid, overcautious in enemy territory and paranoid in the face of Katakuri’s formidable abilities.

The town had ended at the edge of another town, this one themed after various pastries. Pies, tarts, croissants, and all manner of oversized flour-based sweets made up the buildings, and Sanji spent the first half an hour or so simply trying to identify everything.

He directed a half-dozen questions at Katakuri whenever he found a pastry he wasn’t familiar with, but otherwise the man remained characteristically silent. Sanji didn’t mind; the island was plenty interesting enough.

But, there was something else that had been nagging at him since the very first day he’d arrived. He’d never thought to bother Pudding about it, and he’d had much more pressing concerns in the days leading up to the wedding, but now…

“Okay, I gotta ask. How the hell do you keep everything fresh?”

They were standing in the middle of some kind of main square, surrounded by cinnamon roll restaurants that had been centered around a liquid icing fountain. It all smelled delicious, but Katakuri had said that the structures were switched out around once a year, which meant that this stuff had to be pretty old.

Katakuri had leaned up against a doughy wall, flipping a jellybean while Sanji was looking around. “One of my siblings has the ability to preserve materials. He makes his rounds whenever something new is baked. Many of the buildings will even keep their heat from the oven, if he is able to get there soon enough.”

He’d suspected the Charlottes had some kind of power like that in their ranks, an almost necessary ability considering the sheer scale of their edible cities, but it was nice to have it confirmed. He’d only heard of a few of their massive themed islands, but the way Katakuri had spoken yesterday made him think that he didn’t even know half of them.

It was a lot of food, for that many islands.

It could feed a _lot_ of people.

 Something twisted in Sanji’s gut, something that remembered long, cold nights on a rock in the middle of the sea. Something that remembered harsh emptiness, jagged edges in his belly, and the bone-deep weakness that came with desperation.

“What happens to it, when you want to remake something? The old stuff, I mean. There’s just so much of it.” Sanji was rather proud of how well he made himself sound disinterested.

Katakuri didn’t seem to find the question unusual. There was no reason he should have, as it wasn’t any different from the kinds of questions he’d been asking all day, but Sanji was relieved all the same. “If it’s just a few buildings, the town will take care of it in a day or two. If it’s the annual re-bake, Mama will invite members of her territories for a party. We’ve never had issues with leftovers.”

The knot in his gut eased, and he released the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He didn’t know what he would have done if Katakuri had told him it was all thrown away; he doubted there was anything he _could_ do, but it would have definitely kept him from sleeping well for a while. There were few things that upset him more than hunger and waste, and after being subjected to the most extreme case of the former, he wasn’t too eager to see the latter.

Speaking of which, it was almost lunchtime. They’d been touring Flour Island for half the day already, and though Katakuri had told him there was only one other village to see, he was still surprised at the size.

Big Mom really did rule over a massive empire, and Sanji was forced to wonder what exactly would have happened to all of these people if Bege’s assassination attempt had succeeded. Where would they have gone? Would the Charlottes have stayed around the protect them, or would the crew fracture like Whitebeard’s had, leaving the territories to descend into chaos?

What would have happened to all the children, all the parents, all the food…?

But it hadn’t succeeded. Big Mom lived.

And, as Sanji reminded himself, he had his own life to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...several people even tossed multicolored pastries on the path in front of him as he passed by..."
> 
> Guys, they literally threw him -flours-.  
> Heh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took extra time to write because it’s the longest chapter I’ve written so far, but I refuse to split it up because I want the plot MOVING ALREADY.

As the days went on, and Sanji was given permission from the doctors to tour islands that were further and further out, he found himself getting grudgingly comfortable with Katakuri’s constant presence. The man always woke up before him and went to sleep after him, and even though Sanji saw plenty of other people around during his days outside of the house, Katakuri was the only one he could really talk to.

And now, he was around him almost constantly. Katakuri accompanied him everywhere, only leaving Sanji alone when he disappeared to eat his meals. The first day, they’d just ducked into another house and waited for the chefs to come with food. Apparently, Katakuri had a residence in every town on the island, and Sanji had learned that Crepe Town wasn’t even where he usually lived.

“It’s the farthest inland,” Katakuri had told him, when he’d asked why he’d chosen there. “My preferred residence is closer to the sea, but it would be foolish to make it easier for you to escape by boat.”

It did make sense. Sanji was slowly getting an idea of where exactly he fit on the chain here, a clearer picture of his place between ‘dangerous prisoner’ and ‘potential crewmember.’ He’d already run into a few boundaries from testing his limits during the past few days.

One, he wasn’t allowed to talk to any of the citizens on the islands. He hadn’t tried to until the fourth day of the tour, when they’d been on Fruits Island and he’d seen an absolutely _perfect_ strawberry fraisier.

He’d spotted it while they’d been walking through the market, and as soon as he’d recognized the fluffiness of the genoise sponge and smelled the brilliant tartness of strawberry, he’d started moving over. There was the perfect amount of jam on top of the sponge layer to complement the vanilla custard without drowning out its sweetness, and an obviously talented eye for detail could be seen in the clean way the strawberries had been sliced and neatly arranged along the edges.

It was beautiful, a real work of art that hadn’t sacrificed any of the flavor. Sanji had been fully ready to inform the young lady behind the stand that her dessert was better than many he’d seen from far older chefs when he’d felt the full force of Katakuri’s gaze zero in on him.

He hadn’t said anything yet, hadn’t even taken more than a step in the lady’s direction, but his senses had told him that if he moved any more there would be repercussions. He’d decided to not let it go, instead turning on his heel and fixing Katakuri with an accusatory glare of his own.

The effect may have been ruined by how far he had to look up, though.

There’d been a few words exchanged later on, but it basically boiled down to ‘don’t interact with the citizens or we may suspect them of helping you try to escape.’ Which was stupid, in Sanji’s opinion, because it wasn’t like anyone in Totland would even dare to try anything with Katakuri right beside him.

He was still a little pissed about it. It had been a damn good strawberry fraisier.

 

Another limit he’d run into was leaving his room at night. He’d happened on that one quite innocently, having been unable to sleep after the excitement of the first tour. He’d gotten up to try to start breakfast early, but the door to his room hadn’t budged when he pushed it.

That had been understandable, considering he couldn’t reach the doorknob. He’d tried to sky walk up to it, but his injured foot had given out on the second step and left him crashing to the floor.

Katakuri had opened the door from the outside a few moments later, looking down at him with a distinctly unamused glare. He’d been even less amused when Sanji had dazedly asked if the man always wore his scarf to bed, since the massive thing was still wrapped around his neck at what was probably around four in the morning.

“I lock your room at night,” Katakuri had told him, when Sanji had gotten up off the floor and explained what he’d been trying to do. “Everything you need is in here. Don’t try to leave again.”

“Can I at least get a new bed?” he’d called out, as Katakuri closed the door behind him. “Mine broke, there’s marshmallow everywhere!”

He didn’t get a response.

 

The final boundary he’d found had been the most concerning one: Katakuri refused to remove the chain binding his ankles.

He’d held fast even when Sanji offered to trade some of his culinary secrets for it. It hadn’t been an easy offer to make, and he was more than a little glad that it had been turned down. He’d spent two years in hell fighting for those secrets so he could use them for his crew, not so some half-rate chef on a giant floating cake could serve their enemies.

The chain did need to go though, some way or another. He knew he didn’t have a shot at escaping with it on since it hobbled both his speed and his fighting ability, both things he’d need when Luffy came to get him. He could always suck up to his captors and get it off for his good behavior, but playing nice had never been his strong suit.

That being said, he’d found some freedoms as well.

He could ask pretty much whatever he wanted, and as long as it wasn’t some Charlotte family secret it would be answered. He’d learned of ingredients that only came from certain territories the Big Mom pirates controlled, of a tree that could grow a dozen different fruits at once, of a sea made entirely out of juice on the southern part of Totland and a million other wonders he’d never even known existed.

He’d learned that he had the option to go see the Vinsmokes, when Katakuri had offered it to him as a trade for stories about his time in Sabaody. The man had brought it up in casual conversation as if Sanji might be interested in seeing them chained-up and helpless just as much as he was in knowing how big the jelly vats were.

Sanji didn’t care about giving up a few stories, but he also didn’t care to see the Germa. Katakuri’s offer had meant they were still relatively safe, at least until Big Mom woke up; that was good enough for him. He’d ended up trading the information to get a proper fryer for his kitchen.

He’d also found that he could pretty much direct where they went, within a reasonable distance. He’d mentioned his interest in Ice Island offhand one day, and the next day they’d ended up there. The same had happened with Jelly Island, and Jam Island after that. He could go wherever he wanted when the ships landed, following the signs to the towns or just enjoying the scenery.

No matter where he went, though, Katakuri was always right beside him. The man never seemed to tire of answering his questions, walking slowly so that his massive steps were matched with Sanji’s far smaller ones. Sanji had even tested him once by walking around the same chocolate ice-cream igloo six times in a row, waiting for him to grow impatient and demand to move on.

Nothing had happened. Katakuri seemed to be a bottomless well of patience, content to follow him around and watch from far above. Sanji had grown so used to the pressure of the man’s ever-calm aura that he hardly felt it anymore, just as he had with Luffy and Zoro.

So, understandably, the air felt oddly empty on the one time he wasn’t around.

 

That day’s location was Liquor Island, still in the process of being rebuilt after Big Mom’s rampage.

Champagne Town was apparently the only place left fully intact, so that’s where Katakuri had taken him first. They’d wandered around for a bit, Sanji questioning if the ability that kept food fresh also kept wine from aging, until he’d gotten curious about the insides of one of the bottle-buildings.

Surprisingly, Katakuri allowed him to see for himself; he’d denied similar requests before, but he’d either gained more confidence in his ability to keep Sanji in line or this building just wasn’t that important.

The bottle-building had been interesting enough, with stair-tubes connecting all the rooms that floated in the sea of champagne. They were almost to the top ‘floor’ when Katakuri had told him to stop.

They were already halfway up the steps to the next level, and though the tubes were big enough to fit Katakuri’s massive frame, they were still a little cramped. Sanji couldn’t imagine why Katakuri would insist on pausing right in the middle of one.

Katakuri didn’t answer him when he asked why, instead turning to head back the way they’d came. A few seconds later, Sanji sensed an agitated presence nearby, coming towards them.

A woman.

A _scared_ woman.

The woman herself appeared a half-second later, flying past the level below them and stopping just short of slamming into Katakuri. Her chest was heaving with exertion, her pink hair disheveled and tangled up around two… _were those devil horns?_

“Brother Katakuri! We need you at Chocolate Town, they’ve returned to-” She had to pause to breathe for a moment, clearly winded. They were quite far up, and if she’d really run all the way up to them she had to be feeling the strain. “They’ve returned to rescue their captain. We’re holding them off, but the ones we captured say they have reinforcements coming. We need you at the port!”

Sanji was plenty curious to hear who was brave enough to attack Big Mom’s territory head-on, and also to know who could be strong enough to need the intervention of a Sweet Commander. However, Katakuri didn’t seem inclined to discuss it in front of him.

“Inform the fleet that I’ll be there shortly. Prevent them from landing, I’ll be able to take care of the rest.”

The woman thanked him profusely before heading back down the stairs at the same breakneck pace she’d come up at, and Katakuri turned to face him.

Sanji looked up to meet the man’s stare, grinning and ready for a little excitement. “Do I get to come along?”

 

Apparently, he didn’t.

Katakuri left him in a courtyard built in the ‘cap’ of one of the bottle-buildings, with instructions to stay there until he returned. The dome covering the courtyard was made of thick glass, which he could break easily enough, but the couple hundred meter drop beyond them was the real thing keeping him trapped; with his legs tied, sky-walking down from this far up was out of the question.

Besides, the two mirrors on either side of the door leading back into the bottle were quite strategically placed: Because of the way the buildings around this one were set up, the only spot he’d be able to jump off and get to the ground was right across from the mirrors and directly in their line of sight.

Katakuri hadn’t told him when he’d be back, but Sanji assumed he’d be gone for a decent amount of time. It didn’t bother him that he was being left alone; he was honestly surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner, considering how many responsibilities the guy had to have.

It did bother him, however, that there wasn’t a damn thing to do up here by himself. Sure, the view was nice, and he’d brought his cigarettes so he could kill time with a smoke, but all he could think of while looking around were more questions to ask about the place.

And without Katakuri, he couldn’t get any answers.

He ended up sitting down on a bench in the middle of the courtyard, smoking away, resolved to spend what would possibly be the rest of the day alone.

A few minutes in, however, he was disabused of that notion.

There was a girl watching him from behind the glass. She was hiding, and doing a pretty decent job of it considering she couldn’t be more than nine or ten, but she’d been in the same place for too long and Sanji had picked up on her.

He considered leaving her alone. It wasn’t like she was hurting anything. All she’d seen was him pacing around in the little courtyard, smoking and thinking. She was far too weak for him to ‘see’ her, so she didn’t really pose a threat to him, but her irregular breathing had been what had given her away; she sounded scared, nervous almost.

Sanji realized, quite abruptly, that she was probably not supposed to be here.

The place she was hiding was close to the building, purposefully out of sight of the mirrors by the door, and he sincerely doubted the Charlottes would hire a child to spy on him. And if they did, they certainly wouldn’t pick one that was that easy to detect. Really, all she’d done to hide was pick a spot where bushes covered the glass and sat down there.

Sanji thought about calling her out on it. He could hardly stand Katakuri watching him all the time and hated that he couldn’t do anything about it, so having a child spy on him just for kicks was a special kind of insult. He could tell her to just leave; she’d managed to get herself up here, and judging by how she came up to his chest even when sitting, she had to be one of Big Mom’s own. He’d seen the emperor’s toughness firsthand, so it wasn’t hard to believe that the kid might jump and just survive the fall.

However, he’d probably be in some serious shit if Katakuri found him talking to one of his younger siblings, and Sanji wasn’t near confident enough of his own standing to test the man. So far, Katakuri hadn’t so much as touched him except to restrain him, but Sanji knew that could change in a heartbeat.

He decided the leave the kid alone, swallowing his pride and laying back on the bench. He felt far too exposed to actually sleep, but he could at least rest his eyes for a little bit.

That worked for all of two minutes, until the girl watching him spoke up through the glass.

“Hey! Are you there?”

Sanji hadn’t expected her to actually try to talk to him, but he was still determined not to interact with her. It just wasn’t worth risking punishment when he had everything to lose and nothing to gain.

“Hey, mister!” She was louder now, and though his eyes were closed he could hear movement and realized that she was standing up.

Once again, he ignored her, hoping she’d take the hint and leave. Really, how the hell had she even gotten up here? He hadn’t seen her when they’d been walking around the bottle-building, and the place was too open to really hide in.

“Hey, mister! Are you listening? Mister!” She must’ve started beating at the glass, judging by the loud banging, and Sanji was struck by the thought that the people inside might hear it and come out. He couldn’t sense anybody strong nearby, but all it would take was for one guard to see…

Shit, he really was going to have to talk to her just to keep her from screwing him over.

_This is why I fucking hate kids_.

Sanji opened his eyes and got up off the bench, slowly counting to ten in his head as he casually walked over to where the girl was hiding. The brat was almost as tall as him, with big wide eyes and candy-pink hair that was swirling all around her head from the wind outside the glass.

Come to think of it, that wind had to be pretty strong at this height, but she wasn’t even holding on to anything as she stood on the tiny ledge beyond the dome. It just served to reinforce Sanji’s belief that every single one of the Charlottes was a goddamn monster.

“Are you mister Sanji?” she asked when he reached her, voice coming across clearly even through the glass. She pronounced his name oddly, like ‘Saaan-jeh’ rather than ‘San-ji.’

He didn’t recognize the kid, but it made sense that he would be known around the islands for all the ‘crimes’ he’d committed. Hell, the little girl could have been in the crowd that watched him be paraded over to Katakuri’s house in chains. There’d been plenty of children there.

Sanji made sure his face was out of view of the mirrors, turning his back to them and leaning up against the glass before speaking. “Yeah, that’s me. Listen, you’re not supposed to be here, right?”

“I’m Lolly!” The girl pointed to herself, smiling wide with teeth that looked unusually big.

Sanji didn’t know if she hadn’t heard him or just chosen to ignore him. He tried again. “Okay, hey, but how did you get up here?”

She pressed her face right up against the glass. “Did you make the cake for Mama?”

Considering how easily he could hear her, Sanji decided she probably didn’t care what he said. It grated on his nerves, but if answering her questions would get her to leave then he’d play along. “Yeah, I did.”

“I wanted some, but Mama ate it all. You have to make one for me!” She pressed her face up even closer, and Sanji resisted the urge to take a step back. She was so pushy, so demanding; he was already regretting not taking his chances with Katakuri’s wrath.

There had been a lot of rare, hard to get ingredients that had gone into that cake, and Sanji had a grand total of none of them in his kitchen at Katakuri’s house. “I can’t make that cake. It had a lot of special stuff-”

Her face screwed up in a pout. “You have to! I want it!”

_Goddamnit_. “Look, that cake was made specially for Big…for your mother. I’m not allowed to make one for anyone else. Understand?”

Sanji was counting on the assumption that anything to do with Big Mom’s authority couldn’t be questioned in Totland, as Pudding had more or less told him. It seemed to work for a moment, the kid’s face falling as the information sank in.

But then her pout was back, just as strong as ever. “Then make me a _better_ one!”

_Fuck_.

Sanji racked his head for something to say, anything to get the brat off his back. At this point, she could give him away just as easily as the guards, if she chose to complain to somebody about him not listening to her. But even if he did manage to make her a cake better than Big Mom’s, how would he even get something like that to her with Katakuri watching him all the time?

“Make me a better cake! You have to! I want it!” She was getting louder again, raising her fists as if to go back to banging on the glass.

There were lollipops decorations on her shirt, the big rainbow ones that had all different kinds of fruity flavors. Big, multicolored smudges stained the glass from where she’d pressed up against it, and Sanji could see more smudges on her cheeks and around her mouth.

It was worth a shot. “How about a triple berry rainbow lollipop cake?”

Her eyes lit up, her hands coming up to her face as she jumped up and down in excitement. For someone her size, it was actually a little intimidating, and Sanji found himself taking an involuntary half-step back.

“Yes! Yes! That one! I want it!”

Okay, that was one hurdle down. He’d made something similar a while ago for Nami, and he knew he had the right ingredients in his kitchen. Getting it to her would be the hard part, but Sanji had an idea of how he might be able to do it…

“It’ll have to be small, okay? Your brother’s watching, and if he sees it, he’ll take it away.”

The girl nodded her head emphatically.

“And you have to promise not to tell anybody, okay? If you tell anybody, the cake will disappear.” It was probably the lamest lie he’d ever come up with, but he wasn’t about to give the kid what she wanted without covering his own ass.

“I promise!”

Sanji leaned back in. If his newly-formed plan worked right, he could get the brat off his case without risking too much. “Alright then, listen close…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title: Sanji Spends a Lot of Time Thinking, But Says 'Fuck It' And Does Shit Anyway


	7. Chapter 7

The transfer the next day had been easy. Katakuri hadn’t noted the cake at all; Sanji had been making food in the mornings and taking it with him for several days already as a way to avoid eating the sweets the chefs served, so it wasn’t like he was doing anything out of the ordinary. It was simple enough to hide the cake inside the big basket he usually brought, though it took a little rearranging to make his normal lunch fit around it.

When they’d paused for lunch in a giant hollowed-out peanut shell and Katakuri had disappeared to eat his own meal, Sanji had just left the cake sitting by the door. When Katakuri had reappeared and they’d set off again, it was gone, so he assumed the brat had gotten to it.

All in all, Sanji was almost certain that the whole thing was just another test. Sure, the Charlotte kids didn’t seem to have anybody to tell them ‘no’ when they wanted something, so it made a kind of sense that the girl would chase down a dangerous prisoner just to demand a cake. But the ease with which everything went off was pretty damn suspicious on its own; Sanji expected far more difficulty out of pulling something off right under a Yonko Commander’s nose.

But Sanji couldn’t think of what it could be testing him on. His willingness to disobey? Katakuri had never given him a direct order not to do what he did, and since the kid was a Charlotte, he was technically obeying _her_ orders. Maybe they wanted to see if he’d poison the food? But he’d already served Smoothie and Perospero, and it would be crazy to leave the big names alone only to try to take out a random child later on.

No, a test wouldn’t make sense. But could there really be no other guards around him when they went out? Was Katakuri truly that lax of a jailer?

Sometimes Sanji felt that for all the time he spent pondering his situation, he still didn’t understand the first thing about it.

 

Katakuri had ended their tour early, informing Sanji that the rest of Nuts Island was still being ‘re-baked’ after Big Mom’s rampage. An hour’s ship ride back to Flour Island, a short walk down the same streets he’d been paraded through when he’d first woken up, and they were at Katakuri’s house.

As he had every time they’d returned from a tour, Katakuri went ahead of him to inform the team guarding the house that they were back. Sanji could at least know that he was under heavy guard while here, if not anywhere else.

When he walked inside, Katakuri holding the massive door open for him to pass, he smelled it immediately.

_Strawberries. Cream. Sponge cake_.

Sanji recognized the scents from the strawberry fraisier he’d been so impressed by the other day, and sure enough, there it was. He could see it sitting on the main room table, fresh and bright and beautiful, although about three times larger than the one he’d seen at the market. He felt the strong urge to run and inspect it up close, but the table was far too high for him to reach.

Katakuri forgotten behind him, Sanji bolted to his room, grabbing his dresser and dragging it out to the main room so he could climb up a chair and jump to the table.

Now right in front of him, he could see that this cake was just as gorgeous as the one at the market had been, and it was obvious that it was made by the same baker. He could even see the same little decorative swirls cut into the strawberry halves, tiny spirals and hearts that must have been painstakingly carved by hand. It was a brilliant aesthetic touch that doubled as an effective technique, allowing air to reach the insides of the strawberries and keep them the same consistency and temperature throughout even if the cake was refrigerated.

Sanji sensed Katakuri approaching, even though he was too busy admiring the fraisier to acknowledge him. It had been placed on the table in the same way Katakuri’s dinner usually was, down to the same serving platter and position in front of the chair he favored, but Sanji wasn’t stupid enough to think of it as a coincidence.

“I didn’t realize you’d want to be on eye-level with it. I could have picked you up.”

Sanji narrowed his eyes, looking up to face Katakuri and trying to detect any sign of humor in the man’s expression. When it became apparent that Katakuri was serious in his offer, Sanji decided to ignore him. The very idea of Katakuri bodily picking him up and putting him on the table, like some sort of _toy doll_ , was ridiculous; it didn’t deserve a response.

Instead, Sanji went straight for the real issue at hand. “Why did you do this? And don’t play dumb with me,” he added, remembering how Katakuri had tested him with the Germa. “You’re looking for something here. What do you want?”

Katakuri regarded him with his head tilted, considering his words. If he did decide to act like he hadn’t done it on purpose, Sanji was determined to call him out on it, but the man seemed to accept his demands.

“You obviously saw something special in this. What made it so? Has it been replicated to the same standard?”

Sanji knew not everybody could see what he saw, but the fraisier was so clearly above the level of everything else he’d seen, it was hard to believe that Katakuri could be so oblivious. “Yeah, it’s just as good as the other one. And just look at it…can’t you smell that? I saw plenty of fraisiers that day, and hers beat them by miles.”

Katakuri’s brows came together, eyes narrowing as he shifted his focus from Sanji to the cake, then back to Sanji. “It’s well-made, but Mama does not allow incompetents in Totland. What makes it better than the others?”

Sanji could see how this was a test, of sorts; lesser chefs might be able to recognize its superiority, but they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the causes.

Well, it was a damn good thing that Sanji wasn’t a lesser chef.

“The egg whites and yolks were whisked separately, and she hand-creamed them instead of using a mixer. The strawberries were heated beforehand with water to bring out the flavor and brightness, and she removed the seeds before she made the puree. She let the gelatin soften with the milk before melting it, and she pressed the sponge layer halfway through baking to keep it firm.”

He could’ve added in a dozen other things she’d done exactly right to create the masterpiece in front of him, but if Katakuri couldn’t tell for himself what the difference was, then he’d be wasting his time. Besides, he’d already said enough to make his point. “What I’m saying is, she’s clearly put in the extra time and effort at every single step of the process. Sure, the others were good, but this thing could probably kill a man. It’s perfect.”

Katakuri was silent for a moment, regarding the cake with a distinct spark of interest in his eyes. Sanji could feel the familiar itch in his gut that told him the man was hungry, but Katakuri made no move to reach for it.

After a little while, Katakuri spoke. “The chef who made this is quite young. Citizens do not usually choose to participate in the yearly competitions until they’ve reached a certain age. Perhaps she can be convinced to step up sooner.”

Sanji supposed that made sense. Considering how much importance the villages had placed on ranking their best chefs, the idea that somebody like this could be beneath their notice was ridiculous; it could only happen if they’d never even seen her work. “It’d be best to get to her as soon as possible, yeah. If she’s only been on that one island, she’s been limiting her potential. Somebody with this appreciation for detail could be working on stuff much harder than a few fraisiers.”

“You’d recommend allowing her to work on different islands?”

If Katakuri actually cared to hear his opinion, then Sanji was plenty happy to give it. “Definitely. If she’s really that young, then she hasn’t had a chance to specialize. And if she’s managed to create something like this without specializing, then her options are practically limitless. Hell, she’s probably dying to try something different. I know I’d be.”

Katakuri tilted his head to one side, seeming to consider his words, then nodded. “Interesting. I’ll have to look into it. My sister will likely be loath to give her up, but there’s a chef here she’s been eyeing for a while. It shouldn’t be too difficult to arrange a trade.”

Sanji blinked, eyes narrowing. The way Katakuri had phrased the words sounded funny, almost as if the Charlotte siblings were all engaged in some kind of underground, chef-trading black market. “Wait. You’re trying to get her over to your island…why, exactly?”

If Katakuri detected his accusatory tone, which Sanji was almost certain he did, then he chose to ignore it. “It’ll be a good chance for her to expand her skills. Crepe Town will be due for a re-baking soon, and if she’s willing to move, it’ll be incredibly useful to have a baker here already proficient in fruit fillings. And my own personal team could always use another member, as well.”

The last line was added almost as if it was an afterthought, but Sanji wasn’t fooled. He pulled out a cigarette and reached into his back pocket for his lighter, taking the moment to grin up at Katakuri. “I see you, you sly devil. You’re just trying to catch a good chef for yourself before anybody else does.”

“Perhaps I am. Is that wrong?” Katakuri’s expression didn’t change any, at least from what Sanji could see of it, but the light tone of his voice spoke volumes.

The guy was _joking_ with him.

Sanji lit up and laid back, crossing his arms behind his head and kicking his legs up as he inwardly delighted in this new change of pace. Katakuri hadn’t really gone far, just thrown a tiny bit back at Sanji compared to the massive amounts of sass Sanji had tossed at him earlier, but just knowing the man was capable of humor changed _everything_.

Sanji took a long drag, exhaling slow as if he were a grizzled veteran recalling old tales of battle. “I can see it now…all of these poor innocent civilians, caught up in your wars. Families torn apart because of a quality bread pudding, anarchy in the streets over tips for moist lemon bars, brother fighting sister for Grandma’s gooey butter cake recipe. And above it all, _you_ , the Charlottes, looking down upon your empires like vengeful gods, stirring the flames just to find the perfect steamed pudding…Monsters, all of you.”

So he had a little flare for the dramatic. Whatever. The only person that ever called him out on it was Zoro, and it was _Zoro_ , so who cared?

Katakuri seemed to be able to appreciate it, at least. “I assure you, it’s quite cutthroat. Sister Amande once offered a wing of her own mansion for a chef talented in peanut brittle, then Brother Perospero had an entirely new mansion erected to win them over for their toffee. I doubt it’ll come to that now, but you must remember that it’s you who’s doomed this particular chef.’’

Sanji threw a hand up to his forehead, feigning a gasp. “You’re right. I’m clearly just as bad as you. God, she’ll hate me for this. A complete stranger, and I’ve just ruined her life forever.”

“I’m sure she’ll be cursing your name when she’s setting up in her own personal five-star kitchen. After all, you’ve vouched for her cake without even tasting it.”

Katakuri was right; there was even a giant-sized knife and fork sitting right beside the strawberry fraisier, but Sanji had been so confident in what his eyes and sense of smell told him that he hadn’t even bothered to try a piece of it.

However, he was perfectly willing to turn that back on Katakuri. After all, it was Katakuri who hadn’t been able to see the true value of the cake at first. “But you’re the one who’s thinking of convincing her to join your team without even taking a bite. C’mon, try it.”

Katakuri shook his head, but Sanji was determined now. He got up and crawled forward on the table, taking a hold of the knife and maneuvering it to cut a perfect slice. The edge was sharp and the genoise sponge parted easily; Sanji was actually pretty used to handling tools of this size, considering how often he had to make massive batches of things for his crew.

As he was gently teasing the piece away from the cake, Katakuri spoke up. “Let it be. I’m not interested in eating right now.”

The itch in Sanji’s gut told him that was a lie. The man was hungry, and damnit, he was going to get fed.

“Look, this is goddamn amazing, and I won’t let a single piece of it go to waste. So _eat it_ ,” Sanji flipped the serving knife to have its flat side up, deftly balancing the slice on top and standing up to shove it towards Katakuri, “or I’ll damn well _make you_!”

Katakuri eyed him with a heavy glare, brows low. He made no move to accept or even acknowledge the slice of fraisier, choosing instead to focus his distinctly unamused stare on Sanji, then on the serving knife.

Sanji was struck with the abrupt realization that he was technically pointing a weapon at the guy…

And _threatening_ him with it.

Him, the prisoner, pointing a knife at Katakuri, the jailer. Him, the bound and busted-up sea-cook, pointing a knife at the perfectly healthy Yonko commander. Him, the one with pretty much zero control in this situation, pointing a knife at the person who was probably responsible for determining if he got to live or not.

Reality came crashing back in, as harsh and as cold as a storm-wave at sea. This wasn’t casual banter with his crew, or random conversation with a guest on their ship. This was _Katakuri_ , a Sweet Commander, and an enemy.

Who the fuck was he, trying to force him to eat like he did when Chopper resisted trying new things? Katakuri was a grown man choosing not to eat something, not a little kid who just didn’t want to branch out. Hell, what if the guy was allergic to strawberries? Sanji already knew that the cake had only been brought here for him; it wasn’t much of a stretch that Katakuri had another meal lined up.

“I mean, only if you want to eat it.” Sanji forced the words out, realizing an apology was in order but not quite willing to offer a proper one. He knew that if Katakuri just tried the damn thing, he’d love it, but his own recklessness had already taken him too far. He’d been fine enough eating the whole cake himself. “I can just put it in the fridge. It’ll keep for a few days.”

He’d been getting far too comfortable with the man over the past few days, and for the last few minutes he’d felt practically friendly with him, but he knew he couldn’t afford to forget why he was really here. Katakuri may be open and willing to talk with him on equal ground, but Sanji knew it was all a ruse to get him to lower his guard.

At least Katakuri didn’t seem to be any more bothered by the threat than he had been by everything else Sanji had thrown at him. When he spoke again, thought, his voice was completely even, without any hint of humor. “I’ll eat it myself. I’m interested to see the truth of your assessment, but I prefer to eat alone.”

_Of course. He likes eating alone. Sanji, you fucking dumbass_.

In his concern over feeding someone who was hungry, Sanji had completely forgotten that part of the man’s personality. If Katakuri had been so insistent on it that he left Sanji completely unprotected during the day just to have his lunch, then of course he’d want to do the same while safe in his own house. It was just another thing that had slipped out of his head during their conversation, and just another reminder that Sanji was letting himself get dangerously lax around the man.

As he used the dresser to get down from the table and head to his kitchen, both to give Katakuri privacy and to get started on his own dinner, Sanji reminded himself that the man was nothing but an enemy to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve found that the only time I can get reliable motivation to work on this story is between the hours of midnight and three in the morning, so in case anyone wants to know, Dunkin’ Donuts will brew you a fresh pot of coffee at 2 am if you ask very nicely (and also buy the whole pot).
> 
> Also,
> 
> Katakuri: Yeah it's a cake but like what's so good about it
> 
> Sanji: *gets out ten-page single-spaced paper he wrote just for this occasion* Well, you see-


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! I tried editing it down and ended up adding 500 more words...yeah...

The pounding came in the middle of the night, and before he even knew it Sanji was awake and on his feet. It was all wrong; Robin and Nami always called out to them if they needed something instead of going all the way down to the men’s quarters. It had to be intruders, _intruders on the ship_ -

He wasn’t on the ship.

The door to his room was closed, but the harsh knocks were loud enough to go through it. He sensed Katakuri’s presence nearby, moving away from him and towards the main room.

Sanji blinked blearily as his half-second adrenaline spike faded, trying to decide if he’d rather go back to sleep or snoop on whatever was important enough to wake a Sweet Commander in the middle of the night. It might be worth it to listen in, especially considering how easily he could hear what was going on. Baguette walls didn’t seem to be the best for absorbing noise.

Katakuri’s deep voice was clear, even from halfway across the house. “Mint, what’s wrong? What are you doing up so late?”

_‘Up so late?’ Is he talking to a kid?_

“Lolly got a cake for her birthday and it was _better than mine_!” The high-pitched whine carried just as well as Katakuri’s voice had, though it was infinitely more annoying.

Yep, that was definitely a kid’s voice. _Lolly_ …that name sounded familiar, for some reason. He’d met a ton of Pudding’s little sisters when they’d been first introduced; maybe it was one of them.

Whatever, some kid’s midnight tantrum wasn’t his problem. Sanji grumbled at the lost sleep as he lay back down on the bed and felt around for his blankets, rolling to the side of the bed that wasn’t leaking marshmallow fluff.

But even the thick fabric over his ears didn’t block out Katakuri’s voice booming from the front hall and the kid’s shrieks in return.

“There’s no need to be upset about that in the middle of the night. If you wait until the morning, you can ask the chefs to make one for you as well.”

“I asked! They said they didn’t make it! Lolly said _he_ made it, and I want one!”

It took him a moment in his half-conscious state, but only a moment, then Sanji’s blood went cold. _Lolly_ …The little girl who’d asked him for the cake the other day, the one he’d made promise to keep it a secret.

_So much for that, then._ _Little shit_. She might as well have killed him.

There was no use trying to pretend he was still asleep. There was silence from the main room, but Sanji knew it was just a matter of time. Katakuri would send the kid away, and then he’d come for him.

_I fucked up, I fucked up, shit, goddamnit, fucking hell I really fucked up, Sanji you fucking moron…_

He should’ve just ignored the kid, should’ve just kept his eyes shut and his ass on the bench. He still had a hard time believing that it hadn’t all been a test, but even now he could hear Katakuri giving orders to the team outside. Even if Sanji couldn’t make out all the words, Katakuri’s voice sounding farther away than it had earlier, the authority in his tone was obvious.

He had to be telling them to keep an eye out, because Sanji would probably try to run when the guy started _fucking killing him_.

Sanji kicked off his covers, trying to decide if he should get dressed or not. It wasn’t like a proper pair of pants and a dress shirt were going to offer him any more protection than his flimsy pajamas bottoms, but he’d rather not die in his sleepwear.

He ended up just slipping his shoes on and waiting by his door, too on-edge to bother with the hellish process that was changing pants with ankle chains on. It was a little chilly without a shirt, but he hardly felt it. He was in a daze, head spinning at maximum speed, already working on finding a way to get him through this new obstacle.

_Speed, I can rely on speed. Knives in the kitchen, if he tries to trap me with mochi again I can cut myself out of it. Water…he was weak against water at the tea party, that’s in the kitchen too._

He could bluff to delay him, but that damned future sight would tell Katakuri when he was about to bolt. He’d have to pull something out of his ass, a speech about his innocence maybe, to distract him and pretend that he was just casually walking around. But even if he did get to the kitchen, there were no windows to escape from, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think his busted body could fight its way off the island and back to his crew.

_God, I fucked up so fucking bad…gonna die over a fucking rainbow lollipop cake, how fucking pathetic is that?_

Sanji heard the _thump_ of the front door closing, and sensed the weight of Katakuri’s presence moving towards him. He suddenly ached for a cigarette, but he’d left his pack and lighter on the nightstand, and it was too late to reach for them now.

The handle on his door turned, and a second later the whole thing swung open. Katakuri was directly behind it, standing there, towering over him with his arms crossed in the dim light. Nothing about him looked any different than it normally did, but Sanji’s senses were screaming at him to run.

_That brat better have fucking liked my cake_.

Sanji looked up and down the man, schooling his features into a bored look and crossing his own arms. “So I guess if I wanna get past the snipers, all I gotta do is bring a little girl with me, eh? She didn’t seem to have much trouble.”

“You made that cake.” It was completely unfair how intimidating the man was, just standing there in loose pants and a scarf. He wasn’t yelling, he didn’t even have a weapon out, but he was just so goddamn _big_.

It hadn’t been a question, but Sanji answered anyway. “Yeah, I did.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt the air grow thick. Katakuri’s anger was a palpable presence in the room, setting off blaring alarms in Sanji’s head even though the man hadn’t moved an inch. He fought the urge to jump into a fighting stance and meet the unspoken threat; he had to keep the situation from escalating. If it came to blows, he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance.

“What did you do to it?”

Again he spoke with that even tone, but this time the sharp jab in Sanji’s gut warned him of what was left unsaid. It manifested as a heavy, jagged presence in his stomach and a sour taste in his mouth that let him know the guy was fucking _pissed_.

He’d hadn’t expected anything less, of course. “Nothing. It’s just a cake.”

The pressure in the air ramped up, the weight in Sanji’s gut almost enough to make him physically sick. His mind was working overtime as he fought to stay perfectly still, running through plan after possible plan and discarding them all in the face of the monster in front of him.

He could hardly bullshit his way out of this, as the truth was already the scenario that best supported his innocence. He couldn’t offer a trade to get himself out of trouble, since asking for that would make him look guilty as hell. If Katakuri attacked, he had no way to defend himself, but if he tried to make a run for it the man would see it coming.

“That doesn’t make sense. What did you do to it?”

“I told you. _Nothing_ ,” Sanji bit out, curtailing his annoyance at the last moment. He hated being accused of deliberately ruining food, of using it as some kind of tool to hurt people instead of helping them. His skill as a chef was everything to him, and one of the absolute best ways to rouse his anger was to treat him like some kind of lowlife piece of shit who sabotaged their own work.

Gold flashed in the low light, and Sanji felt every muscle he had seize up. He sensed nothing coming for him, no immediate threat or attack on its way, but he could recognize the outline of a long, sleek weapon by Katakuri’s side.

He recognized the trident from the chaos after the tea party, though he hadn’t gotten the chance to see it this close before. It wasn’t bared, wasn’t pointed at him, just left leaning up against the doorframe, but the message was the same nonetheless.

Sanji got it, loud and clear, but he didn’t have anything else to offer. He hadn’t done a damn thing to the cake, and he sure as hell didn’t plan on running his mouth just because Katakuri brought out a big pointy stick. As far as Sanji was concerned, he’d already said all he needed to say.

But that clearly wasn’t enough for Katakuri. “No one would do such a thing without a reason. You’ve poisoned the cake. What did you use?”

“I didn’t poison anything,” Sanji said, words slow and chosen carefully in order to hide his rising indignation. His life right now relied almost solely on his ability to keep the other man calm, but _fuck_ was it hard to stay still and just let the insults stand. “The cake’s normal. It’s a rainbow berry lollipop one. I’ve got all the ingredients in the kitchen, and I can make it right now in front of you.”

If he got to the kitchen, he’d at least be able to hold the guy off. And who knew, maybe the mirror-woman would show up again, and he’d catch a lucky break. It wasn’t unreasonable; the massive mirror in the kitchen had to be watched by somebody, and if they had forces back there ready to fight, they’d need the woman nearby to bring them through.

But he didn’t even have enough time to get his hopes up before Katakuri shot them down. “No. I know every ingredient that’s been provided to you. Tell me what you used as poison.”

Oh, fuck, he wasn’t gonna make it if Katakuri kept talking to him like that. He could just feel the anger bubbling up inside of him, replacing the icy edges of fear with a hot rush of blood, but he knew he couldn’t afford to let any of it out right now. “I told you, it’s a normal cake. That’s it. Check on her if you’re worried, she’s perfectly fine.”

“Her state now means nothing. Poisons can be slow to act. Now _tell me what you used_.”

It was the first time in Sanji’s captivity that Katakuri had raised his voice, and he had to admit, the effect was actually pretty terrifying. His presence seemed to fill the room even from his spot by the door, his eyes two burning lasers and his massive frame an impassable barrier blocking off any chance he had at escape.

Any other time, he might’ve been cowed by it. It was at least worthy of respect, the way he managed to convey all of that raw power and sheer brutal strength without even moving. Sanji had never doubted that the guy was a powerhouse, but it was still intimidating as hell to see it all out in the open like that.

But unfortunately for Katakuri, Sanji had just reached the exact level of _really fucking pissed_ that made him unable to give two shits about any of it.

“Alright, listen here, you fuckwad, because I would _never_ poison my fucking food. My food is my goddamn pride. That cake is nothing but a fucking masterpiece, and I guarantee it’s the best goddamn thing that brat’s ever tasted. Actually, the worst that could _ever_ happen to someone who eats my food is that it knocks them out from how _fucking amazing_ it is! So fuck you, asshole! You can stick that ‘poison’ bullshit right up your _fucking ass_!”

Katakuri’s trident was out as soon as the last word left Sanji’s mouth, gripped tight in the man’s hand with its three-pronged tip facing Sanji head-on. Katakuri didn’t strike yet, holding his ground, but with his weapon bared Sanji couldn’t afford to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He’d sensed the threat coming and was already moving to match him, sliding his left leg behind him and putting all of his weight on it so he’d be able to jump to dodge the blow. Katakuri would have to aim low to get at him, so if he went high, he had a chance-

But in his rush to counter Katakuri, he’d forgotten about his injuries.

His left foot exploded in agony under his full weight, hot spikes shooting out from the heel and ankle and nearly downing him. He faltered for a half-second, but managed to catch himself before he went down.

_Fuck_ , it hurt, but there was no way in hell he was flinching in front of this man. He stood his ground even as his nerves screamed at him, gritting his teeth against the pain. He’d fought with broken ribs, cracked shins, and debilitating cramps before, and if he planned on surviving this, he was going to have to add a broken foot to that list. It worked out, really; he was just about angry enough to get through it.

Even with every muscle straining to keep himself still, though, he couldn’t take back his original surprised stumble, and Sanji inwardly swore as he felt Katakuri’s gaze zero in on his injured foot. It would have been too much to hope for that someone like him would miss it, but hope was pretty much all he had right now.

A beat of silence passed, both of them facing off but neither willing to make the first move.

After what felt like forever but was probably closer to a few seconds, Katakuri spoke up. His voice was back to its usual volume, though the aura filling the room was no less intense. “You’re in no condition to resist me.”

That was true, but it wasn’t like he had any other choices. “Sure, just let me lay down and rest while you _fucking kill me_.”

“I wouldn’t kill you now,” Katakuri countered, and Sanji was about to call bullshit when he went on. “I’d merely subdue you until we could determine what you’ve done to Lolly. You’re only going to hurt yourself further if you keep resisting.”

If Katakuri thought Sanji would trust him not to kill him, he was fucking crazy. “I told you, I didn’t do anything to her. She asked for a cake. I made her a cake. That’s it!”

The suspicion Sanji felt rolling off the man was as clear as day, Katakuri still apparently unable to believe that he’d do such a thing. Sanji would admit that it did sound a little unbelievable, even to himself, but he couldn’t just let such an obvious insult to his morals go unanswered. He didn’t plan on dying for something he didn’t do, either.

It didn’t seem like Katakuri was going to throw any more accusations at him, but mutual silence would get them nowhere, and Sanji wasn’t sure how much longer he could remain on his injured foot without collapsing. Adrenaline could only get him so far.

He switched tactics, to the one thing he probably should have gone with from the start. “Look, you said you could sense when I’m lying, didn’t you? So _sense_. I’m telling the truth.”

It took a moment, the now-familiar weight of Katakuri’s scrutiny heavy on his chest, but the man seemed to accept his proposal. He stepped back, relaxing his stance, and propping his trident against the doorframe once more. “Very well. If you’re telling the truth, then explain yourself. How did this happen?”

Sanji hesitated for a bit, wary of Katakuri accepting his proposal so easily, but when he didn’t feel any danger coming he let up as well. His left foot pulsed in agony as the blood rushed to it, and he swore aloud, repositioning himself to shift his balance to his right before he spoke.

“She approached me after you left to go fight or something, at Champagne Town. She kept demanding a cake, started screaming and everything when I told her I couldn’t get her one. I figured I was already fucked for talking to her, so why not make her the damn cake anyway?”

Katakuri’s gaze narrowed, but he didn’t outright refute him. “How did she reach you? I know she couldn’t have been in the building with us.”

Funny, he’d been thinking much the same thing. “Beats me. She was behind the glass wall around the courtyard, must’ve gotten up from the outside. She’d been hiding there for a while, then just banged on the thing to get my attention.”

“I see. And how did you get the cake to her?”

“I told her to meet me at the next island, then made it that night and brought it with lunch. I just left it by the door when you went off to eat. Honestly, I thought it was just another one of your tests. Her getting up there, nobody else around guarding me, handing it off so easily…”

Katakuri raised an eyebrow. “I assure you, it wasn’t. Why did you agree to make it?”

He’d figured that out when the guy had busted into his room and threatened him with the world’s largest death fork, but he appreciated the confirmation. “Like I said, I figured I was already fucked. She’d probably complain to somebody if I didn’t do it, and that’d be just as bad as being caught anyway. And hell, she was just a kid who wanted a cake. I didn’t see the harm.”

_Little shit still sold me out, though_. He wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this if she’d just kept her damn mouth shut. He’d told her the cake would disappear if anyone found out about it, hadn’t he? Had the brat just forgotten? She hadn’t seemed to be the brightest of the bunch, when he’d talked to her.

Well, at least now it was all out in the open. Sanji forced himself to wait silently for Katakuri to mull over what he’d said, even though he was starting to feel the chill in the air a little. It was actually pretty cold, but he wouldn’t feel comfortable retreating back to his bed until he was certain Katakuri believed him.

“Very well. I understand where you’re coming from. However, you should have informed me that she’d approached you.”

Sanji fixed him with a look, more than a little taken aback by his easy acceptance. “Are you kidding? You’d have killed me!”

Katakuri’s head tilted, and Sanji imagined him frowning behind his scarf. “Do you really think me so unreasonable?”

It seemed they were back to normal, with Katakuri acting like they were equals and Sanji being confused as hell by every other thing the guy said. “How the fuck was I supposed to know? I don’t know you! You specifically told me not to talk to anybody else! I thought I’d be double-fucked for talking to a _kid_ , of all people.”

“Your account makes sense. Lolly has been known to do such things before. If you had explained that from the beginning, I would have been more open to believing you.”

Sanji had already realized that he’d started off on the wrong path, but what Katakuri was suggesting was ridiculous. There was no way in hell he could’ve known how the man would respond. “You looked like you were gonna kill me! I had to defend myself!”

“I was worried for my sister. I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

“You…I…wait, you’re what?” Sanji could have sworn he’d just heard the words ‘I’m sorry’ come out of Katakuri’s mouth, but that wouldn’t make sense, because he was pretty damn sure he was in the real world.

“You had every right to be scared, given your unfamiliarity with us. I apologize.”

Katakuri seemed to have a talent for throwing Sanji for a total loop. He’d never felt more confused and disoriented in his entire life than he had been over these past few weeks. “You’re…you actually…I…”

Sanji shut his mouth before anything more embarrassing came out. He hadn’t been expecting Katakuri to offer an apology, but there was no way that this could be the end of it. The thing with the brat may not have been a test, but this had to be; it didn’t make any sense for the man to apologize to him otherwise.

If this was how it was going to be, he was going to cut straight to the chase. Katakuri could test him all he wanted, and Sanji would just keep calling him out. “Alright, what the hell do you want out of this?”

“Would you make another cake?”

Sanji’s recently regathered brain cells made another dash for the hills. “You…you want another cake.”

“Yes.”

“Another one, like the one I made for Lolly.”

“Correct.”

“Another one of the things you accused me of poisoning and tried to kill me for.”

“Subdue, not kill. And yes.”

Sanji took a moment to try to wrap his head around it, but it was late, and he was tired. “Okay, why the fuck do you want that?”

“For Mint. She’s requested one. I’m willing to trade for it.” For a guy that had spent the last half an hour or so convinced that Sanji was the literal devil, Katakuri had returned to their usual method of business with remarkable ease. “And yes, with supervision. I’ll be watching at all times.”

_You’d actually let me bake for-_ Ah.

Sanji took in this information, adapting to the jump in the conversation. He didn’t mind making another cake, since it gave him an excuse to spend more time working in his kitchen, but he refused to believe that Katakuri would let him off so easily. “What would you trade it for?”

“I’m offering a new bed. You seem to be dissatisfied with your current one.”

So he _had_ noticed the marshmallow all over the floor.

Sanji would be happy enough to get a new bed, but he knew he wasn’t getting the full story here. This was a test, it had to be, but apparently it was one he couldn’t figure out.

_Whatever._ He’d have a better chance of understanding it in the morning, after he’d gotten enough sleep. He’d normally never allow himself to rest without teasing out every piece of the puzzle, but he’d already put himself through enough tonight.

“I’ll take it.”

The man left his room without any further words, closing the door behind him.

The relief that flooded his system sent him to his knees, the sheer drive to survive that had been keeping him on his feet leaving his body in one long exhale. He’d been running almost on autopilot, fear and pain pushed to the back of his mind so he could focus everything he had on staying alive.

Now, kneeling on cold strawberry crepes with the pressure of Katakuri’s presence still lingering on the edges of his senses, Sanji realized how close he had come to dying.

If he’d attacked, Katakuri would have likely killed him. If he’d tried to run, Katakuri would have likely killed him. If he’d tried to lie, Katakuri would have almost definitely killed him. In fact, if he’d made any wrong move at any point during their confrontation, he would probably be dead by now.

But he wasn’t.

Sanji was certain that it wasn’t over, though. He’d been let off far too easy for what he’d done, and even though he knew already that Katakuri was far from hotheaded, he’d gone pretty damn far with the stuff he’d said during his rant. Sanji had been lucky so far, with how Katakuri worked in trades instead of torture, but tonight he had used up an insane amount of luck; it would have to catch up to him somewhere.

But all of that was a problem for tomorrow. Right now, he was exhausted.

Sanji made his way back to his bed, cursing his aching foot to hell and back as he kicked off his shoes. All he wanted was to curl up in his warm blankets and finally get some rest; going through mental gymnastics trying to understand Katakuri’s motives always left him exhausted. The real consequences of tonight could wait for tomorrow, when he was running on more than a couple dying sparks of adrenaline.

He’d just reached down to pull up the covers when he heard Katakuri’s deep voice from behind the door. “You’ll need to stay awake. I’m calling in a doctor to examine your injury.”

“ _Son of a-”_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait on this one! I'm hitting the midterm rush so I've got less free time, and then some people expressed an interest in seeing a darker version of this AU so I started working on that, then I got sick and basically lay comatose for like a day and a half...But at last, here it is!

“So she just walked right through this sniper team, huh? Nobody said anything?”

“Mama favors the younger siblings. They likely realized that she would take Mint’s side if they tried to prevent her from seeing me. I’m more concerned that she managed to commandeer a ship from Candy Island to here without anyone seeing fit to inform me.” Katakuri had brought in a chair from the main room to set up in the kitchen as he watched Sanji work, flipping a jellybean to pass the time.

Off-handedly, Sanji wondered how the guy managed to keep those kinds of muscles if all he did was sit around all day. Zoro was always in the ship’s gym, always training and lifting and practicing in order to keep up his strength, but even with that constant push he never got nearly as bulky as Katakuri was now.

_It’s gotta be what they’re stuffing the desserts with, maybe I could trade for some of it and bring it back for the others…_

He shelved the thought for a later date. Katakuri seemed to be unusually talkative today, and right now, he planned on taking full advantage of it. “Maybe they were just scared of waking you up in the middle of the night. I can tell you, it sure as hell didn’t go well for me.”

Sanji was faced away from Katakuri, measuring out drops of food coloring into a big bowl of icing, but he could hear cloth shifting behind him before the man spoke.

“Again, I’m sorry for that. I understand how it must have appeared.”

Once more, the ease with which Katakuri offered his apology took Sanji by surprise. He’d done a little thinking while lying in bed that morning, foot aching in its now much bulkier and infinitely more cumbersome cast, and had decided that the move had probably just been a quick way to calm him down. The sooner he’d gotten Sanji to go back to sleep, the sooner he could leave to deal with whatever might be happening with the brat.

Considering how Sanji had woken up alive this morning, he figured the kid had turned out alright.

But if it had just been to calm him down, then there was no reason to keep up the charade the next day. It might be to get him pliant enough to bake another cake, but Katakuri could have just asked for the recipe and had his own chefs make it. Actually… _Hey, why didn’t you-_

“If I had, would they have been able to replicate it to the same quality?”

Sanji scowled, reaching for a tube of food coloring. He knew that the man couldn’t actually read his mind, but it still made him deeply uncomfortable when Katakuri answered questions he hadn’t even finished thinking up yet. “Probably not. And let me guess, the kid’ll have a tantrum if it’s not as good.”

Katakuri didn’t confirm Sanji’s guess, but he didn’t deny it either. After a moment of silence, he spoke up. “It’s obvious that you dislike children. Your explanation last night wasn’t clear. Why did you really choose to make that cake?”

Sanji carefully set down the tube he was holding, pushing the bowl of frosting away from him as he cast out with his senses. Katakuri’s tone wasn’t accusatory, and he couldn’t feel anything but his normal curiosity, but just to be safe Sanji turned around to face him.

Sanji had to crane his neck way up just to look Katakuri in the eyes; normally, the man sat farther away from him so the angle wasn’t as bad, but in the human-sized kitchen there wasn’t enough space. Katakuri himself was leaning forward so he could look down at Sanji from over his crossed legs, and Sanji realized the angle had to be pretty terrible for him, too. “I told you, I knew you’d kill me if you found out I’d been talking to her. I thought my best bet was to just give her what she wanted and be done with it.”

Katakuri tilted his head, eyebrows coming together in what Sanji guessed was a frown. “I wouldn’t have killed you just for speaking with her. I have no memory of ever threatening to do so. Where did you get that impression?”

Sanji leaned back against the counter, digging into his back pocket for his pack of cigs before lighting up. Technically, he was right; Katakuri had never outright threatened his life, but that was only because he hadn’t needed to. The threat was implied in everything he did, from the people guarding the house to the fact that he was the one responsible for Sanji at all. If the Charlottes weren’t willing to kill him when things went wrong, then they wouldn’t have bothered getting someone as strong as a Sweet Commander to look over him, and that was pretty damning evidence for their intentions.

Sanji took a long drag, then exhaled. “Look, I appreciate that you didn’t straight up murder me last night, but don’t try to convince me for one second that you wouldn’t do it. If I really step out of line, you _would_ kill me, and I know it.”

Katakuri leaned even farther forward to gaze down at him directly, but still Sanji didn’t pick up a hint of a threat in his aura. “And what would you define as ‘stepping out of line?’”

Sanji went for the ones he knew were obvious. There were plenty more, but he was aiming to back Katakuri into a corner where he’d have to admit how far he’d go to stop him. “Talking to other people. Trying to escape. Attacking somebody.”

“The citizens have been warned not to interact with you. As I told you, speaking with them would make us suspicious of _them_ , not you. I wouldn’t kill you for trying to escape, though I’ll admit that you would be placed under greater restraints. As for the last one, I would be able to foresee such an event and act accordingly.”

“Not if it was baking a cake for one of your little sisters, of course.” It was a daring jab, and one that he regretted as soon as it left his lips, but the way Katakuri had refused to acknowledge what Sanji knew to be true had hit a nerve in him. He knew he should be treading carefully around the man after last night, but playing nice had never come easy to him. It should have been Nami here, instead of him; that woman could sweet-talk a rabid bear.

_Nami…the crew…_ Something in his chest ached, sharp and sudden.

_Don’t fucking think about them._

Just as he had for every jab Sanji had thrown before this one, Katakuri refused to rise to the bait, brushing it off with nothing more than a simple hum of agreement.

Sanji waiting for a moment, idly shifting his cigarette between fingers as he waited for Katakuri offer anything else, but when nothing came he turned back to his frosting. He couldn’t let it sit out for too long or it would become crusty, and he hadn’t even gotten it to the right color yet. It definitely needed to be a darker green; the shade it was now would be light enough to let the color of the cake show through, and that was just unprofessional.

Three drops of green, one of blue to get a deeper shade, set some aside for an accent, two more drops of green…it was easy to get absorbed back into his work, the pressure of Katakuri’s ever-watching gaze no longer keeping him on edge. Having the man around him all day long had made him used to feeling his heavy presence, just as he’d gotten used to Luffy’s and Zoro’s on the Sunny.

It went on like that for a little while, Sanji eventually mixing a color he was satisfied with and reaching under the counter for his spreading knives.

Before he could start covering the cake, Katakuri spoke up. “You truly believed I’d end your life, just for speaking with her?”

It took Sanji a moment to realize he was referring to the beginning of their conversation, but once he made the connection he turned back around. Katakuri had stopped flipping his jellybean, instead watching Sanji with his arms crossed and his head tilted. Just like before, his eyebrows were drawn in a way that made Sanji assume he was frowning.

It was a little odd; he didn’t understand what the man was getting caught up on. It was obvious, wasn’t it? “I went behind your back after you specifically warned me not to talk to anyone. And a _kid_ , too? I never even considered telling you. It would have been suicide.”

“Do you really think your life is worth so little?” Katakuri’s tone hadn’t changed, still even and flat, but Sanji got the impression that he was genuinely confused.

_My life? The life of an enemy pirate? The life of a man who helped ruin one of the most ludicrous plans your family ever put together? The life of a member of a crew who basically ran around your territory tearing up everything in sight?_

Sanji let his raised eyebrow speak for him.

Judging by the way his forehead wrinkled, Katakuri’s frown had just gotten a lot more severe. “A chef of your caliber is a precious commodity here. We cannot afford to spare a single one, especially not over such trivial matters. Is it different, where you come from?”

Sanji remembered his days with Germa, remembered how the finest chefs in North Blue had slipped him recipe books while his siblings were training. He remembered his sixth birthday, spent in the kitchen as they helped him bake his own birthday cake. They were his safety, his refuge, and as a child he’d treasured them more than anything in the world.

He remembered how easily Judge had given the order to have them all slaughtered when he’d found out where Sanji was disappearing to all the time.

After that, every member of the kitchen staff who was caught even looking at him for too long was killed on the spot. That equated to them being held down and murdered directly in front of Sanji’s eyes, any potential friend falling to the floor with their cut throats spurting blood as his brothers laughed behind him.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

 

The conversation died after that, Sanji realizing that he should take the opportunity to get more information out of Katakuri but unable to find the will to do so. Thinking of his time with the Germa always had that effect on him, dragging him back down to cold, dank cells even after all these years.

By the time he’d started decorating the cake, though, he’d had enough time and nicotine to pick himself back up. Katakuri took over leading the conversation, directing Sanji to write this here and color that there according to what his little sister had apparently specified.

“Wait…she seriously wanted _mint_ on a triple berry cake?”

“It’s her favorite flavor. She rarely eats anything without it, but I was able to convince her to accept something else for this.”

The way Katakuri spoke about his younger sister’s demands made it sound like he’d been negotiating a trade deal with some kind of foreign dignitary, with all the talk of specific details and meeting her requirements. The brat had told him she wanted a cake just like her sister’s, but with shades of green instead of rainbow coloring, cake pops instead of lollipops, white chocolate icing instead of raspberry, and apparently _mint_ worked somewhere in there as well; so basically, a completely different cake.

It was easy enough to make the changes, Katakuri talking him through everything the brat had wanted, but just hearing about the demand for mint had tripped him up. She’d apparently given up on it, but how had she even expected that to work? Bright fruity flavors like the ones in the cake were generally on the opposite side of the palate from mint, and the only times he really used mint with fruits were in… _hmm_ …

Sanji laid his piping tool down on the counter, his mind going back to a particularly picky customer at the Baratie as he made a beeline over to the side of the kitchen where he usually kept fruit. Juice from blueberries and strawberries could be combined with mint, lemon, and honey to create a sweet-glazed garnish that he’d used on plenty of chocolate desserts in his time, but he remembered one haughty old woman who had absolutely demanded to have it on her raspberry limoncello cheesecake.

He moved quickly, picking out the ingredients he wanted as his mind worked over the problem. _A little less honey to preserve the lemon, let the sweetness of the white chocolate fill in for it, she doesn’t want raspberry but with tart enough strawberries I could pull off…a mint-berry glaze._

The glaze itself was sitting in a bowl in front of him a moment after he arrived at his conclusion, his hands having followed the steps in his head as he thought them through. It would be a simple matter of combining it with the accent icing he’d set aside earlier, then piping in swirls around the edges, and the kid would have her mint on a triple-berry cake.

Sanji had just picked up the piping tool again when he heard a spur jingle behind him and realized that he’d been basically ignoring Katakuri for the past five minutes. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see the man uncrossing his legs and looking down at him with an unreadable expression. “Oh, shit. Ah…did you say something?”

“What is that?”

He’d forgotten that Katakuri had been describing to him the type of leaves Mint had wanted drawn on her cake when Sanji had just up and walked away from him. He felt a little shitty about it, guilt prickling under his chin. “I just figured I’d make her something with mint in it, that’s all. It’s just a glaze, it’ll go in the icing and get the mint flavor in without being too overpowering.”

Katakuri regarded him with another one of his signature stares, obviously doubtful. Sanji was just about to offer him a taste of the stuff when he felt the man’s gaze sharpen and remembered that Katakuri refused to eat in front of other people.

He was getting better at reading his little cues, the tiny changes in his expression and stance that told him the man had already seen the future and was just waiting for it to pass. It excited him to know he was gaining a foothold on the guy, but it scared him a little as well. If he’d been here long enough to notice quirks as little as these in his captor, then it was already far too long. He ached to be back on the Sunny, with his crew and his captain, moving forward and headed off around the world again.

A sharp pang of longing hit him right in the gut, spreading throughout his belly in a cold rush as he turned away from Katakuri. Thoughts like these were why he’d been doing his best not to think of his crew while he was trapped here; he was stuck with all of the pain and none of the relief of knowing when they might be reunited again.

The cold gradually faded as he became absorbed in his work again, but the troubling thoughts remained. He’d been here for several weeks already, and though he knew it would take time for his crew to reunite at Wano and rest up until they could come for him again, the old fears of loneliness and abandonment were creeping up on him again.

_Come on, Luffy. Come get me. I know you’re out there._

_I’m ready to go home_.

He went back to his cake decorating, finishing the swirls in silence as Katakuri watched him from far above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my Google ads are now for recipe books and baking conventions. Thanks, Sanji.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah I’m sorry this is so late, I try to keep each update within a period of 7-12 days and this one’s coming right at 12 days. It’s all on me, I misjudged an assignment’s due date and had to cram it all in at the last minute. 
> 
> Here you go!

Katakuri had taken Sanji with him to deliver the cake, citing his hesitance to leave him alone again as the reason why. The trip to Candy Island had been short, and the structures there were just as amazing as they had been on all the other islands, but Sanji’s enjoyment of them was significantly lessened by the fact that he was stuck in a porkswagon the entire time.

“It’s not _that_ bad,” he’d muttered to himself for the millionth time that day, balancing the massive cake beside him as he propped his injured leg up on the side of the wagon. “It doesn’t hurt. I could’ve walked.”

Katakuri had been walking beside him as he usually did, but without Sanji’s smaller-legged pace slowing him down, his strides were long and even. If anything, he’d seemed to enjoy being able to walk normally, his gait far smoother than the jolty start and stop Sanji was used to seeing from him.

They’d reached their destination soon enough, and as they’d rolled up to the massive candy doors of the main mansion, Sanji had mentally prepared himself to deal with another Charlotte kid. Mint had sounded just as bad as Lolly when Katakuri was telling him about her, and he’d expected to deal with plenty of screaming, whining, and foot-stomping before the brat was happy with the cake.

But he hadn’t expected a _stampede of the little fuckers_ to burst out the moment the doors cracked open. The only thing that kept him from being overrun was Katakuri’s leg strategically planted right beside the door to the wagon, blocking the kids from getting inside as they swarmed around him. A dozen hands were pressed up against the windows of the cart, big grimy faces fighting each other to peek inside.

“Where is it? I wanna see it!”

“I can smell it! Gimme!”

“I call the first slice!”

And once voice, rising above the others in a bossy shriek that Sanji recognized from the night before. “Does it have mint?! It’s _my_ cake! _I want it with mint!_ ”

Katakuri’s demands be damned, Sanji never would’ve agreed to come along if he’d known that this would happen. He’d been prepared to deal with one brat, not the whole fucking pack of them. Weren’t most of Linlin’s kids supposed to be adults? Was she even still _having_ kids?

“It’d be best if you gave it to me.” Katakuri’s deep, rumbling voice carried easily over the brats’ high-pitched squeals. He’d knelt down to be closer to eye-level with Sanji, blocking the door with the bulk of his body as he offered his outstretched hand. “I’ll take care of it from here.”

Sanji had never given something over faster in his life.

 

They set up some sort of picnic outside the mansion, servants dragging out different-sized chairs and a wide table as the kids gathered around Katakuri. Lunch was passed around in the form of chocolate croissants, but Sanji chose to remain in the safety of the wagon and eat what he’d packed. He wanted nothing to do with the half-giant brats, especially not in his injured state; he’d already seen one of them crack the ground with an impatient stomp when Katakuri refused to give them the cake right away.

Katakuri waited until they’d finished their ‘lunch’ to put the dish down, and he stepped back as soon as the serving plate hit the table.

The kids instantly descended on it. The dessert disappeared amongst a writhing mound of grabbing hands and multicolored hair, the brats pushing each other away as they fought to get closer. They ate it more like animals than like people, digging their fingers in and scooping out messy handfuls that were quickly shoved into their mouths.

Sanji froze in the middle of chewing his sandwich, his mind taking a moment to register the scene. They were eating more like wild animals than like people, too caught up in getting as much cake as possible to really enjoy any of it. It looked more like some kind of mad, crazed frenzy than just a few kids eating dessert. He remembered that Big Mom had devoured his wedding cake in much the same way, but he’d attributed that to the effects of her insane cravings; was this just how the Charlotte family ate?

But no, the Charlotte siblings that he’d cooked for a few weeks ago had eaten normally, using utensils and napkins like civilized people. Maybe it was something with the kids?

_Hadn’t anybody ever taught them some damn manners?_

After the cake had been utterly demolished, the table it had been on crushed to absolute pieces under the force of the assault, the kids all collapsed on their backs on the ground. They seemed utterly exhausted, several holding their hands over their stomachs as if they’d eaten too much and were just now feeling the effects.

_Serves them right._ He’d spent good damn time on that cake, and they hadn’t even taken the proper time to enjoy it. Sanji had to wonder why he’d even bothered with all of Mint’s specific instructions for the decorations when she’d hardly looked at the thing before practically jumping on it.

The little clearing in front of the mansion was silent for a little while, with the only noise coming from Katakuri as he flipped his jellybean. He’d sat apart from the rest during the entire affair, completely unconcerned by his younger siblings’ antics. Come to think of it, Sanji hadn’t even seen the man get up to eat; he knew Katakuri always ate alone, but he’d been right beside them the whole time.

_Whatever_. Just another odd thing to put on the list. The whole territory here was a madhouse, so he really didn’t have any business being surprised anymore. Sanji shrugged it off and finished his lunch in peace.

But the kids weren’t quiet for long.

“I want fudge that tastes _just like that_ ,” a boy with gelled-up hair declared, completely out of the blue. Several minutes had passed since they’d finished eating, but apparently that was just how long it took for the flavors to really sink in. “Thick fudge! A whole pound of it!”

His words seemed to set off a chain reaction, each of the kids piping up with what they wanted at the moment even though they’d just polished off a massive cake.

A girl with a pink bow in her hair sat up excitedly, eyes going wide as she imagined her next meal. “I want cupcakes! With bubblegum icing! And bubblegum on the inside!”

“Peanut butter bonbons!” screamed a brown-haired girl, noticeably smaller than the rest though still larger than a normal child. “A dozen of them! Covered in cream!”

“Chocolate almond ice cream!” a boy screamed at the top of his lungs, Sanji wincing at the volume.

“No! Honey pecan ice cream!”

“I want caramel pretzel waffles!”

_You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me_.

There was no other way to say it; the Charlotte siblings were absolutely, positively inhuman. Nobody could be thinking of food right after they’d stuffed themselves like that, and even _Luffy_ of all people had to take a break after a big meal.

“I want cookies with brownie batter in the middle! Big Brother, tell that guy to make me cookies!”

“No! He needs to make my cupcakes first!”

“No, he’s gotta make my bonbons!”

_They’re dragging me into this?!_

Sanji watched in dumb amazement as the brats fought over what they’d have him make. The sheer bossy entitlement in their voices was enough to grate on his nerves, annoyance rising hot beneath his skin.

As if he’d just follow their orders, orders from _enemy pirates_ , and make them whatever they wanted? He wasn’t their personal chef, damnit, and how the hell could somebody even expect to get _batter_ inside of already-baked cookies? The only way it’d stay uncooked was if he piped it in near the end, and even then, he’d need to have a way to let the heat out so the batter didn’t bake while the cookies cooled… _hmm, a fork’s tines would make small enough holes-_

_No_. He wasn’t doing this. He’d made the cake for Lolly to get her off his back, and he’d made the cake for Mint to save his own ass. There was no way in hell he’d serve a bunch of selfish brats just for an excuse to spend more time in his kitchen.

The brats continued their argument, quickly getting louder as they fought to be heard over each other, and Sanji turned to Katakuri with a disgusted look. They’d had lunch, delivered the cake, and the kids had liked it. It had to be time to head back, right?

But the weight of the gaze he felt focused on him told him otherwise.

“I’m not doing it,” Sanji told Katakuri as the man walked over, bringing his chair with him.

Katakuri waited until he’d sat back down, a decent distance away so he could still see Sanji through the window of the wagon far below him, before he replied. “I’m willing to trade.”

_Of course you are_.

Really, Sanji should have seen it coming, but he was still pissed. Something about the entire situation rubbed him the wrong way, with the kids’ incessant demands and Katakuri’s easy acceptance. The trades were supposed to be over important things, like getting him more clothes or more ingredients to work with, not for catering to the whims of a couple greedy brats. “I’m not. You guys have plenty of other bakers. Just go ask them, I’m not your damn personal servant.”

“You haven’t even heard my offer yet.”

Like there was anything Katakuri could offer him that would make him turn around and play nice with the most selfish kids he’d ever seen. God, he could feel his temper rising at just the thought of it. “I don’t need to. I told you, I’m not fucking interested.”

“Not even in having your ankle cuffs removed?”

_Son of a bitch_.

 

“I can have them off as long as I’m baking for the kids? Does that mean the second I step out of the kitchen, I’m stuck again?” Getting the chains off was without a doubt his top priority, but the way Katakuri had phrased his offer was more than a little suspicious.

They were back at Katakuri’s house in Crepe Town, the man himself once more crammed into the kitchen as Sanji ran around preheating stoves and gathering ingredients for that night’s dinner. The place really seemed too small to fit him, especially those long legs that he had to keep crossed so they wouldn’t take up the whole damn room. Sanji was used to seeing him elsewhere in the house, among furniture that was sized for him, so having him right next to equipment that was meant for normal people just made him look all the more massive.

Katakuri kept himself out of the way, though, setting up his chair in the far corner as he watched Sanji work. “No. I should have been more clear. I’ll allow the chains to be removed for as long as you agree to make what they ask of you. If you decide you’re no longer willing to take their requests, the chains will be replaced.”

Sanji didn’t respond for a few minutes, thinking it over as he trimmed chicken for the stir-fry he planned on making tonight. There was absolutely no question that the ankle cuffs had to go, but the price Katakuri was asking for was pretty steep. There were very few things he hated more than dealing with children; they were notoriously picky, threw tantrums when they didn’t get their way, and could be the cruelest, most unrepentantly evil creatures he’d ever seen. Sure, there were some good ones out there, but he didn’t have high hopes from what he’d seen of the Charlotte brood.

Katakuri must have picked up on his hesitance. “I won’t let them order you around. I don’t expect you to act like a servant, and I’ll interfere if they become too demanding.”

Well, wasn’t that all nice and dandy. “Looking out for me, huh? You’re a regular guardian angel.”

“It’s obvious that you’re in need of one. From what Lolly told me, she walked right over you.”

Just like the first time Katakuri had responded to his sarcasm in kind, it took Sanji a moment to catch the difference. His voice was just as even as ever, his expression completely unchanged when Sanji looked up at him, but it only took a second of thinking it over before Sanji _knew_.

He felt his mind jumping at the opportunity to banter, mood lifting almost immediately. “Hey, you’re not exactly the best choice. Your little sister shows up at your house in the middle of the night, and you just let her have whatever she wants? Sounds like you’re just as bad as I am.”

 “Perhaps. I don’t recall feeling the need to hide in a wagon, though.”

Sanji hadn’t known just how much he’d missed this kind of lighthearted back-and-forth until their talk yesterday. It was good to know that Katakuri’s willingness to open up a little hadn’t been just a one-time thing; getting his questions answered was nice and all, but Sanji lived for verbal sparring, and he’d been deprived of it for far too long.

He pushed the chicken aside, turning around so he could face the man head-on. “Maybe if you were a better guardian angel, I wouldn’t have needed to hide.”

“I’m supposed to protect you from real dangers, not imagined ones. You’ll just have to deal with your fear of small, harmless children on your own.”

One of those ‘small, harmless kids’ had cracked his stainless-steel cake stand clean in half. “You’re mistaken. I saw what they did to my cake. My very life was on the line, and all you did was sit there!”

“My apologies. Of course even children would be terrifying to a poor, injured chef.”

Sanji grinned up at him despite the insult, unable to help himself. Katakuri wasn’t just playing along; he was _keeping up_ with him, throwing it back just as fast as Sanji could dish it out. Even Zoro couldn’t do that, the swordsman commonly resorting to straight-up fighting whenever he realized Sanji was getting the upper hand in a conversation. “Well, yeah. Little old me, too weak to even see the goddamn _future_. It’s a miracle I’ve managed to get this far.”

“I’ve attributed it to your culinary skill. From what I’ve seen, your tactic is to find the strongest person around and knock them out with your cooking. It’s the only plausible explanation.”

“You’ve got me all figured out. Big, psychic, _and_ smart? Man, that’s just unfair for the rest of us.”

Those dark eyebrows went up, wide scars shifting on Katakuri’s face as he tilted his head. He didn’t respond, but Sanji sensed the man’s normally observant air change into something…lighter.

It piqued Sanji’s curiosity enough for him to want to look more closely, but it was gone before he had the chance. He was left with the odd feeling that he was missing something rather obvious, and it was strong enough that he opened his mouth to ask-

Katakuri spoke up before Sanji could. “My offer still stands. Do you accept?”

_Taking orders from a bunch of enemy brats? In exchange for finally being able to stretch my damn legs?_ It was a tough choice, but Sanji already knew he was going to give in. He’d known getting the cuffs off would require a pretty big sacrifice, and if this was all he had to do, he’d count himself lucky. Besides, now he’d have an excuse to bake a shit-ton more food.

“Yeah, I’ll take it. Now, what the hell do those kids want?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a thing on tumblr this past week where people sent in requests for shorts, and I have a bunch of KataLu/KataSan ones that haven't been posted here. Would you guys be interested in seeing them? They don't really fit into the short collection I already have on here, but they're all pretty small so I'm not sure if it's worth it to make another short collection.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys know they have coffee milkshakes??? And they’ll sell them to people until 3am??? Absolute madness…why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?

“…milk chocolate and maple syrup with the waffles, Anglais requested custard buns shaped like a caterbike with licorice antennae, Dragée would like candied pecans with hard-sugar shells, and Anana has asked for white chocolate cupcakes stuffed with red velvet cake batter.”

Sanji’s pen scribbled furiously over his pad, marking the ingredients he’d need for the coming week’s requests. “Is that black licorice or red?”

Katakuri was sitting next to him, observing from far above as he usually did, though now he was able to spread out in relative comfort. With all the time Sanji had been spending in the kitchen, Katakuri had ordered the wall to the next room over to be knocked down so he had space to watch Sanji as he worked. “He’d prefer black, though I warned him that bitter flavors and custard do not tend to mesh well together.”

_No, they didn’t…unless you add a little bit of orange to tie the sweet and the bitter together._ Sanji penned in ‘orange zest’ on his list of ingredients. “Anana usually likes things to be shaped like knives, doesn’t she?”

The kid had put in plenty of requests for knife-shaped lollipops and candies, so it didn’t surprise him when Katakuri nodded. “She made it known that she wanted miniature knives stuck in each of the cupcakes, but I was able to persuade her of the absurdity of such a thing.”

_Dark chocolate slivers. Sharp and thin, but will break easily if she tries to stab anything with it, and works well as a garnish for white chocolate_. “I’ll make it work.”

Katakuri eyed him with a sideways glance. “I would suggest you refrain from indulging her. She’s attacked several chefs before, when given the chance.”

“I’m not stupid, I won’t just hand her a weapon. And besides,” Sanji looked up from his notepad to meet Katakuri’s gaze, grinning wide. “I’ve got _a whole Sweet Commander_ to keep me safe. Isn’t that right?”

All he got for his troubles was a soft ‘hmm,’ Katakuri ignoring him in favor of flipping a jellybean with his thumb.

“Oh, fuck you then,” Sanji said good-naturedly, going back to his list. Just like last week, every single Charlotte kid had put in a request that would have him spending a good chunk of his days in his kitchen working his ass off to accommodate them. He hated catering to the picky brats, but he had to admit that he enjoyed being tested so much in his craft. Having all the best-quality ingredients at his fingertips as well as a fully-equipped space to work in was practically a dream.

But the cool breeze against his now-bare ankles felt sweeter still. _One obstacle down_.

Sanji chanced a look back up at Katakuri, the man’s eyes closed as he lay back in his chair. Even relaxed, he was still an intimidating sight, a good five meters of pure hard muscle and formidable fighting skill.

_One obstacle down…biggest one still to go._

 

“Spar with me.”

Sanji put down his fork, gazing up at Katakuri with a serious expression. “Look, I know I had no business letting them make their own icing, but I don’t think that the peanut butter, strawberry sherbet, and jalapeno combination is enough to warrant killing me for.”

That got him a raised eyebrow. Katakuri had been responding to his jabs more and more often as time went on, and Sanji had begun to get a feel for the man’s sense of humor. It was tough, since he hadn’t shot back since their conversation two weeks ago, but if Sanji was paying attention he could catch the little signs that told him when he’d hit home.

“I’ve already assured you that I didn’t mind. Spar with me. You’re well enough recovered that you can handle it.”

It was easy enough to guess at why Katakuri was making the offer. After his culinary talent, the next thing the Big Mom pirates would look at to determine if he’d make a worthwhile crewmember would be his fighting ability.

But he’d seen the state Luffy had been in after his fight with the man. If a guy made half out of rubber and half out of sheer resilience took that much of a beating, Sanji didn’t fancy his own chances. “I just got all my bones back in place, and you want to knock them around again? Nah, I’m good.”

Katakuri regarded him from his seat at the massive table in the middle of the main room, tilting his head. “I’m capable of controlling myself.”

Well, obviously. Anyone who could handle walking around in leather all day had to be in possession of some serious restraint: Sanji would’ve torn the tight, scratchy fabric off in the first few minutes.

He picked his fork back up and took another bite of lasagna, savoring the warm cheese on his tongue. He’d been on his feet all day going back and forth between several industrial ovens, and it felt like heaven to just sit and enjoy a meal. “Yeah, I know, but I’m sure having me beat to shit all the time makes it easier to keep me from escaping. Now that I’m healthy again, you just need another excuse to break me, huh?”

Katakuri had long since finished his own meal, a massive bowl of ice cream, in another room of the house. Now, he was back to watching Sanji eat, though it was admittedly less weird now that they were actually having a conversation. “I do recall it being you who caused most of those injuries, not me.”

That was true, but Sanji remembered having damn good reasons for doing so. “Hey, _you’re_ the one who can see the future. If you didn’t want me to get hurt, you could’ve just stopped me, right?”

Katakuri frowned at him. It was the one expression he was confident in recognizing, having seen it plenty of times over the past few weeks. “Perhaps I’ve already chosen the best possible path. Have you considered that?”

Sanji hadn’t actually considered that, but he didn’t know enough about the man’s foresight to realize that there even were multiple ‘paths.’ He considered asking about it, but in the past Katakuri had shut him down pretty quickly. Maybe if he could just keep him talking… “Hey, that’s hardly fair. You should have to live with the consequences of your bad decisions, like the rest of us blind idiots.”

“I assure you, I’m just as susceptible to the long-term as everyone else.”

_Score._ Bege had told him that Katakuri’s foresight only gave him ten second glimpses into the future, but the mafia head had lied to them enough times during their meeting that Sanji hadn’t taken his word for it. Knowing for certain that the man’s visions had time limits was valuable indeed.

Sanji opened his mouth to ask another question, but Katakuri cut him off. “Spar with me. You need the exercise.”

He did need the exercise, since Katakuri had ceased taking him on walking tours of the nearby islands and he’d been spending all of his time in the kitchen baking for the Charlotte hordes, but he wasn’t inclined to pay for it with more bruised shins. “No thanks. Besides, haven’t you seen me carrying those massive desserts around for your siblings? If I keep this up, I’ll be as buff as-”

_-Zoro someday._

_Don’t think about him._

“-you someday,” he finished smoothly. “Hell, give me another month and I’ll be able to take you on, easy.”

Another raised eyebrow. Two in one conversation was pretty good for him; Sanji felt he should start keeping some kind of score.

“I suppose that means you feel like you’re unable to match me now, then?”

“Yeah. Exactly,” Sanji said, then hurried to take another bite of lasagna. Talking with Katakuri was always incredibly distracting for him, and he’d had to rush to the kitchen to reheat cold dinners a few times after their conversations. After a moment’s thought as he chewed, he added, “And don’t bother trying to get a rise out of me. I know where I stand here, and it’s pretty damn far below you.”

“Then you should spar with me, and become stronger.”

Sanji dropped his fork back onto his plate, exasperated. “Look, when I want to get the ever-loving shit beat out of me, I’ll hit you up, okay?”

Silence.

Sanji regretted his words as the moment dragged on, Katakuri seemingly unwilling to pursue the topic after hearing that, but he’d had to say it. The memory of the night Katakuri had cornered him in his room and threatened his life was still fresh on his mind, and he wasn’t particularly eager for a repeat performance.

He finished his lasagna in peace, and was just about to rise from the table to bring the dishes to the kitchen when Katakuri spoke again.

“I have nothing to gain from hurting you.”

Sanji wondered if he’d spent the time during the lull in their conversation weighing the benefits and consequences. If it’d taken him that long to do it, it didn’t say too much for his safety in the future.

_Cold metal flashing in the dim light, a heavy presence pushing down on his lungs, shivering in the night’s chill and trapped with no escape._

“Maybe not now,” he allowed, bitterness seeping through even as he tried to keep his voice even, “but that can change, can’t it? And I can’t do a damn thing about it.”

The past weeks had been a change of pace he hadn’t expected, lulling him into a false sense of security with the constant trips back and forth from Candy Island to deliver sweets to the Charlotte kids. They treated him more like a hired chef than a prisoner, demanding this and that as Katakuri mediated their wild cravings into reasonable requests, and it had been easy to sink into complacency when most of his time was spent doing what he loved in his kitchen.

But he couldn’t forget what he was here for. He _was_ a prisoner, in all sense of the word. His door was still locked at night, he wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone other than Katakuri, and the man himself was always by his side, always silently observing. The Germa were still kept somewhere on one of the many islands in Totland, and though Katakuri had said nothing more about their situation, they were still a constant worry in the back of his mind. He needed to stay aware, needed to remember where he was, needed to-

“Sanji.”

The shock of hearing his name spoken aloud was enough to jolt him out of his thoughts completely, his gaze going straight to Katakuri from where it had been focused on his empty plate. The man had never addressed him directly, not even once in all the time he’d been here, and in that deep, booming voice his own name sounded almost alien to him.

Sanji didn’t respond, merely looking at the man as he fought to shake the odd tingling that settled at the base of his spine.

“Sanji,” Katakuri repeated, dark-eyed gaze locked onto his own with an unusual softness in his features, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Sanji blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked down at the table, then to Katakuri, then back to the table again.

Something about the softness in Katakuri’s expression made it harder to bear than his normal burning glare; it was damningly honest, too much like kindness though he knew the man would only play at offering him any. He couldn’t think of anything to say in return, his mind refusing to provide a smart quip or witty remark, even failing to call up the anger he usually had when he suspected he was being manipulated.

“Ah, yeah,” Sanji offered after a minute, because it was all he could think of. His own voice sounded weak to him, so he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Okay.”

Katakuri seemed to take that as acceptance, nodding once before leaning back in his chair. He closed his eyes, crossing his legs and pulling a jellybean out of thin air to flip.

Sanji quietly stood and pushed in his chair, taking his plate with him.

 

“I feel like this is a little, tiny, _miniscule_ bit in your favor, here.”

Katakuri stood on the opposite end of the arena, but unlike Sanji, he didn’t have to raise his voice to be heard. “It’s the best arena available on the island. Here, we’ll be able to spar as much as we please without worrying about any damage.”

That might be true, since the material of the walls was known for its ability to take a beating without tearing or giving way, but the feeling of unfairness was unavoidable. “Aren’t there any other options? Like a big field? I saw plenty of big fields when we were walking around. Can’t we just use those?”

“I’m aware that you commonly fight using fire. It would be unwise to spar around anything even mildly flammable. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Yeah, that made sense, but… “Did it have to be _mochi?_ ”

Sanji had already known this particular structure existed from touring the island with Katakuri several weeks ago, but he hadn’t realized that it was an actual arena. Honestly, he’d taken one look at the giant mass of colorful rice dough and assumed that it was solid. How the hell could they expect that much mochi to stand up on its own, anyway?

Now, it was clear that wasn’t the case. The entire ball was hollowed out into one big room that stretched over fifty meters in each direction and almost that far upwards as well. For a family made primarily of half-giants, Sanji supposed that was a reasonable size, but he felt almost dwarfed by the thing.

Katakuri, of course, was right at home. He’d walked to the far end of the arena, leaving Sanji the near side, and now he stood with feet planted and arms crossed. His trident hadn’t made an appearance yet, but on the walk over he’d mentioned that he’d be going easy on him, so it was likely he wouldn’t need it.

“As I’ve said, it’s only sparring. Inform me whenever you’re ready, and we can begin.”

Sanji eyed the doughy walls with more than a little suspicion, but if Katakuri decided to use the building to his advantage, there wasn’t really anything he could do about it. At least getting punched through mochi would probably hurt less than getting punched through just about anything else.

He kicked at the air a few times, testing its resistance. With his chains gone, he could sky walk as he pleased, but there was no telling if his recently-uncast foot would be able to take the strain. He chanced another look at Katakuri, the man patiently waiting for him to give the go-ahead. Katakuri’s chest had to be a good three and a half meters up, and it would take at least another meter to reach his head; there was no way Sanji would be able to get a good hit off if he was stuck on the ground.

A quick jump, a hard push, and he was up. The force of his kicks held him aloft, but after a few moments it was clear that he was still unsteady in the air. If this were a real fight, he’d much rather run than rely on shaky legs, but he knew the only way to get stronger again would be to practice in battle.

Sanji let himself fall back to the ground, pleased at the lack of any twinges of pain in his legs. His biggest issue would obviously be Katakuri’s foresight, though getting hit with a fist the size of his head wouldn’t do him any favors either. His best bet would be to rely on his speed, since there was no way Katakuri could move that massive body of his around fast enough to keep up with him. Those future visions would be a pain in the ass, but if he watched for the signs he’d been picking up on over the past few weeks, he might be able to counter them.

Sanji wasn’t enough of a fool to think that he could win this, but he'd be damned if he went down without at least trying to. He stepped forward, settling into a tight fighting stance, and grinned.

“Alright, rice ball. Bring it on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a few KataSan shorts and scenes from the first draft of this story over at the Kitchen Sink thingy, if anybody's interested in those.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last! This took about five times longer to get out than it should have for many, many reasons, not the least being I had to rewrite it from scratch. Good news is, my laptop should be back up and running in a few days, and I’ll have access to all of my notes again!
> 
> With that said, sit down and buckle up…this chapter’s a long one.

Sanji had never really taken the time to think about what Katakuri would look like from above.

Considering how much time they’d already spent together, it was kind of odd that he’d never seen the man from any angle other than far below. Even standing on the massive table in the main room with Katakuri sitting beside him, the man had still been taller, forcing Sanji to crane his neck painfully upwards just to hold a conversation.

After all that time in the man’s shadow, it felt almost surreal to be looking _down_ at him.

He’d jumped high to get here, kicking off of the mochi wall to get even higher so he’d have a shot at the man’s head. They’d only been sparring for a few minutes, but Sanji had very quickly realized that being anywhere within Katakuri’s significant reach was dangerous. The man wasn’t using those jellybeans he’d seen at the wedding, and hadn’t even brought out his trident, but from the way their fight was going it seemed like he wouldn’t even need to.

From above, it was even easier to see how outmatched he was. The massive corded muscles in Katakuri’s arms stood out in clear relief as he twisted to one side to dodge Sanji’s wind-slicing kick, his movements much faster than his size should have allowed. The next second, he was throwing a left punch that missed Sanji by millimeters, having shifted into an attack stance before Sanji could even draw his leg back for another kick.

The wind was loud as it rushed past his ear, the punch rending the air around him with the force behind it. There were already plenty of fist-sized holes in the floor from earlier, when Sanji had decided to try to knock the man off balance before realizing that the spikes on Katakuri’s knee guards were there for a reason. He’d quickly shifted tactics, but not before Katakuri had almost crushed him half a dozen times.

Up in the air, it was a little easier to dodge. Katakuri seemed to be less comfortable fighting something above him, attacks coming just a little bit slower, but no less deadly.

Sanji kicked off the wall once more, judging how close he’d need to be to launch another hit. Hugging the edge of the mochi dome was making him more than a little annoyed, since it greatly limited his range, but he knew his stamina wasn’t nearly up to par with Katakuri’s. Skywalking took an immense amount of energy out of him, and though he wasn’t feeling tired yet, he knew it was best to conserve what he had.

Katakuri’s next punch went to his left and Sanji saw his opening, diving in. If he managed to get off a good hit on one of the man’s shoulders, he could slow or even stop the attacks that were preventing him from getting too close-

_Danger from the right._

Sanji twisted away, abandoning the attack just in time as Katakuri’s fist passed through the space he’d been in only a half second before. He was forced to retreat once again, back to pushing off the wall to stay above Katakuri and wait for another chance.

Each time they clashed, Sanji felt as if he was only dodging by the skin of his teeth. To be fair, he wasn’t operating anywhere near his full potential, still wary of the injuries on his back and legs, but Katakuri’s speed seemed a little too…unnatural.

Sanji had fought fast opponents before; the key to keeping up with one was to watch their arms and legs, then judge where their next attack was coming from and act accordingly. All the movement with speed came from the extremities, as hands and feet could move a lot faster than an entire body.

But every time Sanji looked down, Katakuri’s eyes were focused directly on his. He never looked away, never broke his concentration even for a second, but he was still managing to dodge everything Sanji threw at him.

_It’s gotta be that foresight_. There was no other way. Sure, the man was fast, but with the way he was putting all of his effort into just keeping track of him, Sanji was willing to bet the man’s reaction time was actually a lot slower than it seemed.

But he couldn’t be certain. Katakuri was already a formidable opponent; it wasn’t too much of a stretch for a man who’d found a way to see the future to also have found a way to move faster than his size should allow. If that was the case, Sanji would have to give up his hopes of escape entirely; Katakuri was just too far above his level.

But if it wasn’t… _If I can put him into a situation where he has to make a quick decision…_

Sanji closed in once more, directing a pointed kick to the shoulder and a much less powerful one off to the right. The first one he already expected the man to dodge; it was just like every other kick he’d thrown in the past few minutes. But the second one had been delivered with all the speed he could manage, a quick out-and-back that normally hit Luffy before his captain even realized it was coming.

The first one was dodged, predictably. Sanji hadn’t even finished pulling his leg back before Katakuri was already moving out of the way, winding up for another heavy punch. He knew he had time, so he waited just an extra split second before pushing himself backwards…

The jabbing, spear-like force of the kick hit Katakuri directly in the chest, just as Sanji had planned. As he thought, the man hadn’t even been looking at his feet; he must’ve been relying solely on his foresight to tell him when and where to dodge, instead focusing all his attention on offense in order to keep up with Sanji’s speed. He’d seen the future where Sanji’s first kick had hit him and reacted accordingly, but that had led him directly into the path of the second.

His head went dizzy with the victory for a moment, reveling in the growing realization that he might actually have a chance. Katakuri’s speed was fabricated, a product of his observation haki rather than an actual ability to move and think fast in the heat of battle. If he moved fast enough, if he aimed for pressure points and wore the man down over time, then…

Katakuri could be beaten.

_I hit him, I actually fucking hit-_

His whole world was suddenly black, a massive gloved fist filling his vision as reality slammed him in the gut with all the force of a battering ram.

The next moment, he was on his back on the floor, gasping for breath underneath the heavy weight pinning him to the ground. He reached out wildly, trying to get a grip on Katakuri’s hand to push it off of him, but his fingers sank into thick dough instead of flesh. Looking up, wary for danger, he saw a long pillar of mochi that turned into Katakuri’s arm right before it hit his jacket, the man himself standing above him.

They stayed like that for a moment, Sanji taking stock of the situation and Katakuri silently watching as if he hadn’t just punched him halfway through the floor, before Katakuri reeled his arm back in. The way the mochi moved was fluid but unnerving to watch as it neatly detached itself from Sanji, sticky white dough gradually solidifying into the smooth black leather of a glove.

Sanji stood, hesitant, watching Katakuri for any movement. He found himself remarkably unharmed, his back aching from the impact but otherwise fine. A hit like that should’ve cracked a few ribs at the very least, but the mochi had absorbed much of the force, leaving him with little more than a bruised ego.

It had been soft as it hit him, too. Katakuri hadn’t used haki.

_But why..?_

“It’s only sparring,” Katakuri informed him, when he looked up at the man with the question ready on his lips. “And I promised you, remember? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji brushed him off, face twisting in abrupt disgust as he looked down and realized just how much mochi was still on him. The stuff took forever to get out of the seams in his clothes, and if even a little of it had gotten into his hair, then he was shutting down this ‘sparring’ shit _right fucking now_. “Sure, you won’t hurt me. And if you happen to hit me hard enough to break a few more bones, well, that’s-”

“ _Sanji_.”

Once more, hearing his own name in that deep, unfamiliar voice froze his thoughts in their tracks.

- _just…a happy…accident…_

Katakuri’s expression was oddly intense, his eyes unblinking and locked onto Sanji’s. He moved in, driving Sanji to take an involuntary step back as his world seemed to shrink in the face of him being so close. An arm stretched out to brace himself against the wall as he went down on one knee, leaning in for a better angle.

His aura was thick in the air, black leather and hard muscle and piercing gaze making him seem even larger than he actually was. Katakuri wasn’t threatening him, wasn’t even that close to him, but Sanji still felt like he was trapped with his back against the wall by the pressure of his presence.

When Katakuri spoke again, his words were quiet. To Sanji they were loud, echoing in the small space between them, but to Katakuri they must have been barely above a whisper. “Sanji, I won’t hurt you, because I don’t _want_ to hurt you.”

The feeling of being pinned beneath all that power sparked something in Sanji’s mind, a vague memory of a shape above him coupled with the hazy sense of a warm night, loose limbs, and easy laughter. It reminded him of that one stolen moment so long ago where he’d felt wanted, happy, _safe_ …

_‘I don’t want to hurt you, Sanji.’_

The words were old, years old, but they echoed in his mind as if Katakuri had just spoken them as well.

“You need to listen to me, Sanji.”

His head was locked in a harsh struggle between cold reality and warm memory, Sanji fighting to remain in the present but at the same time irresistibly drawn to the past. It was the heaviest moment of déjà vu he’d ever experienced, triggered by the presence pushing down on him, those strong limbs around him locking the rest of the world away, and above all the searing, somber look in those yellow eyes.

“Sanji,” Katakuri repeated, his gaze just as damningly soft as it had been last night, “I need you to listen to me. I know you distrust me. You have good reason to, and I know that nothing I can do will change that. However, _this_ is something I cannot allow to continue.”

Sanji was finding it hard to breathe, now, but it had nothing to do with the weight on his chest.

“This,” Katakuri gestured with his free hand, at himself, at Sanji, at the shattered ground between them, “ _assumption_ that your life is worthless to me, that you are something expendable, is ridiculous. You are nothing short of invaluable here. Do you understand that?”

_‘You’re not worthless. Not to me.’_ A soft whisper. No one else had been meant to hear it, but Sanji hadn’t cared. That fact that it had been said at all had been enough for him.

“Answer me, Sanji. Do you understand your worth in this territory?”

He couldn’t look at him, couldn’t speak for the pounding in his ears. Memory after memory washed over him, breaking barriers he’d put up so long ago that he’d forgotten they’d even existed. Katakuri’s gaze was ruthless, his aura a relentless force bearing down on him, and Sanji couldn’t shake the damning parallels between him and… _between him and_ …

“You don’t believe me.” Katakuri’s tone was less accusatory and more…disappointed. “I can see it.”

Sanji didn’t have the sense of mind left to confirm or deny it.

A beat of silence followed, Katakuri’s presence becoming heavier and heavier as he scrutinized Sanji. Sanji felt like he was being slowly peeled apart by that amber gaze, layer by layer torn away until Katakuri could see even the memories playing in his head.

_‘I won’t hurt you, Sanji. You know I’ll never hurt you.’_

“Very well,” Katakuri said, an air of finality in his voice as he backed away from Sanji and rose to his full height. The air seemed to rush back in to take up the space now between them, Sanji’s lungs filling in an instant and the dreamy haze clearing from his mind as if it had never been there. Katakuri was once more his captor, once more an unreachable mystery far above him, and Sanji was nothing but a prisoner. “I suppose I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

 

It was only later that night, lying in bed and replaying the scene over and over in his head, that he realized Katakuri hadn’t had a scratch on him.

He’d hit him, landed a kick with enough force to crush a house, and _it hadn’t even left a mark_.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered to himself. All that work, all that time spent worrying about his agility and speed and how he might manage to counter Katakuri’s foresight, was all for nothing if he couldn’t even damage him.

He needed to get stronger, stronger even than he’d been before his injuries, if he planned on making it out of here.

Which meant he’d need to spend more time training with Katakuri…which meant he was going to have to spend more time around the man himself…which meant he needed to solve his little issue _as soon as possible_.

The issue in question was currently wedged between him and the bed, and hadn’t shown even the slightest hint of resolving itself since it had appeared several hours ago. At this point, even the feeling of his soft pajama pants shifting against it when he rolled onto his side hurt, the slight friction painful against his sensitive flesh.

Nothing he’d tried had gone even the slightest way towards getting rid of it. Making dinner, thinking over his preparations for the next morning’s breakfast, listing off all the steps to preparing pufferfish in his head, and even the coldest shower he’d ever taken hadn’t so much as temporarily cowed it.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that he’d have to take care of it the old-fashioned way. He could just fall asleep and hope that it would go away in the morning, but if it didn’t, there was no way he’d be able to hide it from Katakuri whenever he returned. And if the man saw…well, that was hardly something he could just brush off.

Part of him recoiled at the thought of touching himself, though. He knew what the change in him meant, knew where his sudden neediness had been triggered by, and he knew that feeding it once would only make it worse.

But it had to be done. He’d gotten lucky today, when Katakuri had been pulled aside as soon as they’d stepped out of the arena. Once more, the pink-haired woman with the odd horns had come rushing up to him, flustered and breathless as she told him he was needed on their western shores.

Sanji had been escorted back to Katakuri’s house by the same twins who guarded him before, armed with the same bows while some sort of servant followed close behind him with a massive mirror held upright. He wouldn’t have tried to escape anyway, considering how unlikely it would be for him to steal a ship to take him off the island, but at least the presence of the mirror confirmed his suspicion that there were forces ready to restrain him at a moment’s notice.

Whatever Katakuri had been called away to deal with had kept him busy for the rest of the day. Sanji had made dinner alone, cleaned up alone, then showered and gone to bed alone. It reminded him of how things had been earlier, when Katakuri would leave in the morning and come back in the evening, but now that he had gotten used to the man’s constant presence it felt odd with him gone.

Every night he’d been captive here, he had fallen asleep with the sense of Katakuri nearby, a solid if discouraging proof that he wasn’t on his own. Even after he’d gotten used to the feeling of him on the edge of his mind, he’d at least had the vague reassurance that _someone_ was there with him.

But now, he was alone, and he could feel nothing but emptiness.

Sanji shivered involuntarily, pulling the cotton-candy sheets a little closer around him. _This_ was the thing he hated inside himself, that he didn’t want to allow to get any stronger; the fear of loneliness, and the need that came with it that drove him to attach himself to anything nearby just for the sake of a human touch. If he chose to feed it by fantasizing about what he didn’t have, that need would only become stronger.

But the alternative was too risky. Now was the best chance he’d ever get, anyway, with Katakuri out of the house and the room too dark for the mirrors to observe him, and the thought of the man seeing him when he was like this was far more terrifying than dealing with a few old problems.

One hand slid down, a few fingers toying with the loose rim of his pants. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten off, couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about anything other than survival and how much he missed his crew.

_Just a moment for myself…that’s all I need, just a quick moment…_

Unbidden, his mind drew up the memory from before. Strong arms anchored beside him, a heavy presence above him pinning him down, soft words whispered in his ear. It had been dark that night, in a secluded corner of the ship away from the rest of the crew, but he could still make out the features of high cheekbones, a sharp nose, rough-cut hair, and-

Amber eyes, glaring down at him.

Sanji jerked his hand away from himself, abandoning the pleasant pressure in favor of curling up into a ball and fighting to erase the image in his head. Katakuri must have become such a constant figure in his life that he was seeing him everywhere, even where the man was most unwelcome.

After his heartbeat had slowed and his sudden panic had subsided, he tried again, moving slowly.

A light squeeze around the base of his shaft, a thumb pressing against his head… _warm hands around his face, gentle fingers pressing at the edges of his mouth._

In his mind, Sanji looked up, relief washing through him as he saw the eyes were the right color now. He relaxed against his bed, letting his hand move a faster as he sank further into his fantasy.

_A rough touch sliding down his chest, following an invisible trail downwards. It excited him but scared him at the same time, and as he struggled to remain still his companion whispered words of comfort._

_‘I don’t want to hurt you, Sanji.’_

But when he spoke, the voice was far too deep, far too… _big_ , as if coming from someone much larger.

_He looked up, and the hand on him was suddenly massive, closing over his entire body to hold him down. Amber eyes glowed in the low light, and he was trapped, pinned beneath incredible strength, that deep voice promising him that he was invaluable, that he was worth so much to him-_

Sanji came with an abrupt jolt, his hand shooting up at the last moment to stifle his cry. His entire body was wracked with shudders as he rode out his orgasm, replaying the same words over and over again in his head.

It felt like an eternity until he went still, but he knew it only could’ve been a few seconds at most. His breath came back slowly, then his hearing, and finally his sight as he opened his eyes and stared at the wall across from his bed. The hand inside his pajama pants was wet, and even through the chill in the night air he could smell his own musky scent.

Sanji lay there for a moment, dazed and dissociated. The past few minutes seemed to have a hazy quality to them, as if they’d only happened in his imagination instead of in reality, but the evidence staining the sheets told him otherwise. He really had gotten himself off, while he was a prisoner, in someone else’s house, in enemy territory.

And try as he might, there was no denying who had been in his head as he’d cum.

“I’m so fucked,” he said, to the empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "An arm stretched out to brace himself against the wall as he went down on one knee"
> 
> Katakuri pulled out a box, complete with a fancy ribbon, and presented it to Sanji. "Blackleg Sanji, will you marry me?"
> 
> "Oh fuck no," Sanji said, brushing mochi off his suit. "I ain't falling for that shit twice."
> 
> \--------------------------------  
> Thanks for being so patient, you guys! Regular updates should resume after this mess.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this at 11:59 on Sunday, when I work at 5:00 AM Monday, and that should say just about everything I need to say about my time management skills.

_I’m so fucked_ , Sanji though to himself as he tapped out his third cigarette in half an hour, fingers already reaching to pull another from the pack in his back pocket. He’d been going slow, trying to drag each one out as much as he could, but the pack was already running low; he’d been smoking like an addict since he’d woken up this morning.

He was back in the porkswagon, Katakuri walking alongside him. The man had insisted on it even through Sanji’s complaints, informing him that they’d be traveling quite a distance and it would simply be faster for him to ride instead of walk.

_Could’ve just said he didn’t want me to slow him down._ Sanji huffed, lighting up his fourteenth cigarette of the day. At this rate, he’d be out before lunchtime, but the nicotine was the only thing keeping him calm. In the daylight, it was far easier to banish the memories he had of last night, but Sanji had the oddest fear that if he lingered on them too long then Katakuri would somehow be able to sense what he was thinking about.

The paranoia was easy to recognize, since past events had shown him that even Katakuri’s formidable haki couldn’t let him dig around in people’s heads, but that didn’t mean it was easy to manage. His mind kept being drawn back to last night, fixating on what he’d imagined and how it had felt.

_Deep under the covers, hand wrapped tight around himself, listening to Katakuri’s voice telling him over and over that he was valuable and safe and wanted…_

Sanji glanced over to the side, watching the harsh spikes of Katakuri’s knee guards move as he walked beside the wagon. In the open air, it was hard to reconcile the stoic, stone-faced giant with the warm, gentle presence above him in his fantasy. He almost couldn’t understand how he’d wanted to think of the other man that way at all; Katakuri was a stranger, an enemy that was standing directly between him and his crew. It was almost too much to take in at once, and though he was certain he knew the cause of the change in himself, it was the last thing he ever wanted to think about.

But with Katakuri silent at his left, and a long ride ahead to wherever the man saw fit to take him, Sanji had nothing else to do but think.

There was still so much about his situation that he didn’t understand. He’d managed to figure out a few things, such as the apparent lack of supervision around him. With the homies out of commission, the Big Mom pirates had to be scrambling to fill all the gaps. Sanji had noticed a severe lack of officers at every island he’d visited, when before the wedding, he hadn’t been able to turn a corner without running into one of them. With such a shortage of manpower, the Charlottes had to be dealing with bigger issues than a simple cook.

As for why he’d been stuck with Katakuri himself instead of just thrown in a jail…that one was a little harder to figure out. Sanji’s suspicion was that the Charlottes had begun to distrust their underlings to some degree, considering the betrayals that had occurred at the wedding, but having someone as strong as Katakuri to watch over him seemed excessive.

_They couldn’t possibly see me as_ that _much of a threat, right?_

Both times he’d fought back, Katakuri had subdued him with minimal effort. The first time, the man had taken him down with _conqueror’s haki_ , of all things. Even though he’d been severely weakened at the time, Sanji had no doubts about the difference in their strengths, especially after yesterday’s fight.

_A heavy presence, looming large over him…god, he was such a sucker for the strong ones…_

“We’ll be arriving soon.”

Katakuri’s deep voice sent shivers running up and down Sanji’s spine, but they were more out of embarrassment than anything else. What kind of sick fuck got horny over a daydream when somebody else was practically right next to them? Hell, if Franky could see him now-

But he couldn’t, because he was in Wano, and Sanji was stuck in a porkswagon rolling over hard-candy stones with a five-meter-tall man made out of mochi warning him not to step in the chocolate ponds when he got out.

 

It only took him a half-second of looking around the massive building before he found something off. “What kind of half-ass, amateur, lazy fucking chef _stacks_ their brick ovens?”

Sanji might not have been the best at reading Katakuri’s expressions, but he was pretty sure both eyebrows raised at once was a new one. When the man chose to let that speak for him, Sanji gestured towards the fifty or so massive brickwork ovens that lined the back wall. They were incredibly well-crafted, neat corners speaking for many hours of meticulous measuring and sealing to make sure the heat couldn’t leak out, but no amount of quality would fix the disaster that was their setup.

Katakuri followed his hand to the far wall, then offered a half-nod, acknowledging the fault. “The previous arrangement wasn’t this way. This kitchen was recently destroyed and had to be rebuilt as soon as possible to cater to Mama’s needs. Unfortunately, the head chef hasn’t been able to look it over himself, so it has remained the way the builders saw fit to arrange it.”

_Recently destroyed? Who the fuck would attack a kitchen, of all things-_

Katakuri’s sharp glare greeted him when Sanji turned to ask the question, and he made the connection between the location of the building and the island they were currently on.

_Oh, yeah. Us._

To be fair, dropping a castle-sized cake on anything would probably crush it to bits. And considering that this kitchen was right underneath Whole Cake Chateau, Sanji could guess that it was the main center of food production for Big Mom herself. The size of the place alone was all the confirmation he needed.

But for a kitchen made to serve a Yonkou, it was in terrible order. Just from another quick glance around, Sanji could identify another dozen major things that were clearly out of place. Blast chillers too far from the prep areas, mismatched venting hoods, freezers with improper locking mechanisms…if anyone was planning to use this place to serve the amount of people it was sized to serve, it would be an absolute nightmare.

“Your builders are morons. Half this shit is common sense. I mean, _stacked_ ovens? Anything with a fire in it has to release smoke somehow, and even if they had a proper chimney setup, _heat fucking rises_. A kid probably could’ve figured that one out.”

Just like anytime Sanji insulted the Big Mom pirates, Katakuri brushed off his criticisms without even the slightest hint of annoyance. “If you’d be willing to examine the place and note any issue, I could have it properly adjusted within the week.”

Considering the size of the building, such a walkthrough would take the rest of the day at least, and they already had a long way ahead of them just to get back to Flour Island. And if all Katakuri had dragged him out here to do was play fix-it for somebody else’s mistakes, then Sanji was ready to show a little annoyance himself. “Yeah, no fucking thanks. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

“So you’d rather leave it in disarray?”

It would be a cold day in hell before Sanji let his own personal space be treated so badly, but since this would likely be the last time he was setting foot in this kitchen, it wasn’t his problem. “This is your head chef’s place, right? Just tell him to get off his lazy ass and start taking care of his kitchen.”

“I would, but I’ve just been informed that he has better things to do with his time.”

Sanji’s sarcastic retort was already at the tip of his tongue, mouth open to shoot back, when the meaning of Katakuri’s words sank in.

_You’re fucking kidding me_.

When he looked up, the teasing spark he expected to see was completely absent from the man’s eyes. That yellow gaze was cold, and deadly serious.

_But you already had a head chef-_

“Streusen has been missing for quite some time. He was horribly injured when Whole Cake Chateau collapsed, and in the events that followed, we lost track of the medical team responsible for him. It’s quite likely that he was killed sometime during the chaos and buried under debris.”

_Of course he’s missing. Idiot got knocked in the head so hard, he probably walked right off the edge of the ship._ Sanji opened his mouth to say as much, the comment offhand as he worked to process this newest development, before the world turned completely black and all he could hear was the ringing in his ears.

 

Sanji woke up to a pounding headache and his vision still foggy, dark smudges gradually fading away to reveal shapes and colors. He had a vague sense of disorientation, as if the ground wasn’t quite where he expected it to be.

He registered that he was laying on his back and sat up slowly, only feeling a beat of panic before reality set in and he remembered where he was. It took another few seconds for him to settle back in to his skin, almost as if he were waking up from a dream rather than a killer migraine, but eventually only the pain remained.

His view of the room was different from what he remembered, and he realized that he was looking at it from much higher up. He was sitting on top of one of the gigantic storage racks near where they’d entered, amongst a makeshift bed of coarse polishing towels. Katakuri wasn’t far away, facing away from him with his deep voice rumbling in the cavernous building.

“-inside, yes. Four will be enough. Contact me when you’re near.”

Sanji was just deciding if it was worth it or not to get his attention when Katakuri turned around, revealing that he was speaking into a transponder snail. The thing was outfitted with a neat white coat that Sanji recognized all too well, and was absolutely dwarfed in the man’s hand.

There was a moment of silence as Katakuri regarded him, Sanji blankly staring at the snail as the implication of its presence sank in, before Sanji sighed.

“I take it back. You’re right. You don’t need to hurt me, because apparently, I beat the shit out of _myself_ from just standing around.”

Katakuri ignored the comment. “These headaches are unsettling. I’ve had the medical staff look them over before, but they’ve been unable to determine what might be causing them.”

Sanji rubbed his eyes, inhaling slowly as the pain spiked. He didn’t need a team of doctors to figure out the cause; they were obviously triggered by his attempts to remember whatever he’d forgotten. He couldn’t even recall what had set off this particular one, but judging from the few before it, it couldn’t be anything else but that. “Tell them to go back, I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

“No. It seems that I have rushed your recovery, and you’re paying the price for it. You need to be examined before you’re further injured.”

That sounded suspiciously like more house arrest to Sanji, and he’d be damned if he was going to be trapped in a bed again after only a short taste of freedom. He knew he wasn’t in physical danger, but to explain that he’d have to tell Katakuri what he really thought it was, and he wasn’t about to give that much away. “I told you, I’ll be fine. Look, I didn’t have anything to drink on the way over, so it’s probably just a dehydration headache. Just grab some water and I’ll be good to go.”

The glare that greeted Sanji when he started inching himself towards the edge of the storage rack to jump down was distinctly unamused. “You were unconscious for a good half a minute, Sanji.”

Sanji felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up, his fingers clenching and his throat going tight, before he forced himself to relax with a pulse of frustration. _Every time he says my fucking name…why is it every time he says my fucking name?_

He decided to switch tactics. “And how did I get here, huh? I was only out for half a minute, and you toss me on a shelf? What, afraid you’d step on me?”

Katakuri’s gaze narrowed, and he bent down to set the snail on a nearby table before straightening to his full height and crossing his arms. Even with Sanji on top of the rack, Katakuri still towered over him. “I assumed you’d prefer something softer than a metal floor. It’d be easier on your _injuries_.”

Sanji might not have been able to push Katakuri’s buttons no matter how much he tried, but the man certainly knew how to push his. “Fucking hell, will you stop with the doctors? I don’t need to be dragged off to be stuck with bedrest and five different casts every time I trip, goddamnit! Do you really think I’m that fucking _fragile_?”

Katakuri just looked at him.

Sanji’s eyes were drawn down from the man’s face to his chest, to the exact spot he’d landed a kick hard enough to smash a wall. Even a day later, there wasn’t even the slightest sign of purplish bruising against those curling scarlet tattoos.

He looked down at himself, feeling every inch of his aching ribs and battered shins and sore ankles.

_To him, yeah,_ Sanji realized. _Yeah, I fucking am_.

It was a sobering realization, and not at all a pleasant one. Sure, he’d known that Katakuri was far above him in terms of just about everything, and he’d known that anytime they clashed he’d be far out of his league. But somehow, hearing the man himself essentially say that he saw Sanji as someone weak and frail, as someone that needed to be watched over and protected instead of someone capable of handling himself…

It _hurt_.

He’d spent every second of his life since escaping from his childhood fighting to prove that he was worth something, that he wasn’t just a drain on all the stronger people around him, but that didn’t matter here. Here, he was a nobody, just a prisoner the Charlottes were trying their best to coax into being useful.

It saddened him, that everything he’d fought for meant nothing here. It infuriated him, that he’d been dismissed so easily even after all he’d done.

But most of all, it just hurt.

The jagged spikes in his stomach were what kept him silent when he slid down off the storage rack. The icy weight in his gut was what made him unresisting as he waited for the medical team to arrive. And even through the rapidly diminishing pain in his head, the hollow ache of uselessness allowed him to lay motionless on the table as he was poked and prodded by strangers’ hands.

And through all the waiting, all the readings taken and theories discussed and frustrated realizations that a definitive medical cause for Sanji’s sudden collapse was still out of reach, a burning yellow gaze watched from above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katakuri: I value your skill and judgment so much that I’m informing you we’d like you to be our next head chef, and I’ll have your kitchen arranged however you like. Also, I’m concerned for your health because I care about you.
> 
> Sanji: I can’t believe you would say that to me, god I’m so useless, why am I even alive
> 
> Katakuri: What the fuck


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Internet connection issues right on time as usual, but that shit ain’t gonna stop me. I’ve had the equivalent of eight cups of coffee today and I’m Ready to Fight.

“The children have requested that you visit again.”

Sanji mustered up a noncommittal sound. Of course they’d want to see him again; unlike Katakuri, he didn’t try to moderate them. He’d shown himself to be weak to their demands, and they knew if they could just get to him, he’d make whatever they wanted.

_Because I’m weak._

Leather creaked as Katakuri shifted in his chair, and Sanji felt the familiar presence of his scrutinizing gaze. He’d been feeling it quite a lot in the past few days, the man watching him as he dragged himself from bed to kitchen to bed without being fully aware of any of it. Even now, setting his fork down on his plate as he swallowed the last bite of his dinner, he couldn’t even remember what he’d made tonight.

A few moments passed, Katakuri’s gaze on him only getting sharper. Sanji had the strong feeling that the man wasn’t satisfied with his non-answer, but he couldn’t work up the will to offer anything else. He’d go willingly, but he didn’t really have a choice either way, so Sanji saw no point in saying it.

When Katakuri didn’t address him again, Sanji pushed his chair back and stood, picking up his plate to take it back to the kitchen with him. Washing dishes wasn’t his favorite pastime, but at least the sound of running water was more pleasant than silence.

He finished cleaning quickly, far more quickly than he’d have preferred. Time spent in his kitchen was time spent away from Katakuri, since the man had more or less left him alone while he worked despite the giant chair waiting in the corner.

Sanji took another minute to let the hot water wash over his hands, soaking in the warmth. He remembered doing something much similar on the Sunny, waiting for scorching summer days then diving into the ocean to soak in the sun-heated sea. It was a familiar sensation, a comforting memory that made him lean forward and bask in the feeling. His crew was out there somewhere, lounging on the deck and training in the crow’s nest and wasting the hours away until Sanji would call out from the kitchen that dinner was-

He shut the water off.

He spent a few seconds to set the last dish on the drying rack, and then pushed the massive door open to enter the main room once again. Katakuri hadn’t moved from his place at the giant table, empty dish still in front of him, but he’d closed his eyes and begun to toss and catch a jellybean.

_Good_. The last thing he wanted right now was more conversation. Katakuri had been unusually talkative lately, and normally Sanji would jump at the chance for a little human interaction, but now he just didn’t have the energy for it. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball on his bed, pull the sheets tight around him, and sleep until Luffy came for him.

It wouldn’t be that hard to do, would it? He’d have to stop cooking his own meals, since that would require leaving his room and facing Katakuri, but the food they’d brought to him before hadn’t been so bad. He’d be reneging on his promise to bake for the Charlotte kids, but they’d forget him and move on soon enough.

_It would be so easy…_

Sanji was almost to the door of his room when the knocking came. It was a jarring noise, distinctly loud and unwelcome in the otherwise silent house. He looked to Katakuri, but the man hadn’t opened his eyes, hadn’t even stopped flipping his jellybean.

“Let her in,” Katakuri said, and Sanji felt the stirrings of confusion. It was enough to make him turn around, curious to at least see who the hell was important enough to practically waltz right in to the home of a Sweet Commander.

The massive door opened, and Sanji recognized the familiar sight of the long-necked twins’ bows poking through. Escorting another Charlotte sibling? The woman with horns again? He didn’t sense anyone powerful nearby-

A young lady walked in, following the twins and letting them guide her to stand directly in front of Katakuri before they retreated and left her alone.

Her brown hair was tied up behind her head in a messy bun with a few strands loose in the front, her hands clasped in front of her in a nervous grip as she stepped into the house. Her apron was cinched tight around her narrow frame, a thin dusting of flour puffing up around her whenever she moved and giving her an odd whitish halo. Her posture was deferential, gaze kept low, but her eyes wandered around with unmistakable curiosity.

Sanji remembered her, of course. Even though it felt like ages had passed since he’d seen her, he never forgot the faces of talented chefs.

Especially ones he’d found lying on the ground, broken and bloody after his brother’s sick idea of a _joke_.

“You summoned me, Lord Katakuri?” When Cosette spoke, her voice was trembling. She _was_ young, like he’d guessed so many weeks ago; barely more than a kid.

“I did.” Katakuri’s voice was no louder than it had ever been, but Sanji winced at the volume as Cosette flinched like she’d been struck. He’d had time to get used to the man’s aura, but for her, it had to be overwhelming. “Do you know why?”

His focus was directly on her now, and Sanji could _feel_ her terror. He felt a strong urge to get between them somehow, to offer some kind of protection to her just so she didn’t have to face all that intensity head-on. What the hell was Katakuri thinking, shoving an innocent kid right in the middle of the crazy power dynamic that was going on between them? Was this some kind of blackmail?

_How the hell could he know?_

Cosette was holding herself still and perfectly upright, but it was easy to see how hard it was for her. “N-no, Lord Katakuri.”

Katakuri didn’t move, didn’t blink as he stared her down. “Would you like to know why?”

There was nothing in his tone to indicate whether he was pleased or displeased, whether punishment or praise was coming next. Cosette’s fear was an acid taste in his mouth, sourness curdling in his stomach as she stuttered through her affirmation. Everything in Sanji was suddenly awake, muscles tense and senses sharp, ready to jump to her defense.

_He couldn’t know…how could he ever know?_

But Katakuri had told him they’d finally chased down the Vinsmokes, hadn’t he? He’d told Sanji they’d been caught, snail-ships and all, and dragged away in chains. Cosette would have been on one of those ships, likely still in the medical bay he’d left her in after finding her battered body. They could’ve extracted the story from her, or hell, one of his brothers had likely given it up. He wouldn’t put it past them; they’d never missed a chance to bring a little more pain down on him.

_Have they been holding on to her this whole time? Waiting for the perfect opportunity?_

Katakuri caught his jellybean one final time and held it, crossing his arms and leaning forward to loom over the girl. His focus zeroed in on her, and even from across the room Sanji heard her sudden, choked gasp. “I understand that you were previously in the employ of the Germa. You must be wondering why we’ve allowed you to live.”

Sanji found his stance shifting, feet moving all on their own. The girl didn’t seem to even notice him, her gaze riveted to Katakuri in his massive chair, but he had no time to think. He had to do something, anything, to protect her-

 Katakuri’s head tilted to his right, a slight, casual movement. “This man is the reason why.”

The girl’s expression was frozen for a moment, her gaze rising from the floor as she took in Katakuri’s words. She turned to her left, eyes widening as she noticed Sanji for the first time.

He was trapped in an odd position, one knee bent and one leg back as he prepared to jump between her and Katakuri. She was staring at him, her recognition obvious, but her reaction still unclear.

Would she hate him? She had good reason to. Niji wouldn’t have even touched her if it hadn’t been for him. Hell, the Germa wouldn’t even be at odds with the Big Mom Pirates if Sanji had never existed in the first place.

A beat of silence, hanging heavy in the air.

“ _Lord Saaanjiii!_ ”

Cosette took off towards him, moving at a speed that was startling for such a small body. Caught off-guard, Sanji watched dumbly as she flung herself down and pressed her palms to the ground in front of him.

“Lord Sanji, it is an _honor_ to be in your presence!”

He wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t prepared to handle it. “Wait, I don’t-”

“I pledge you my service! I am at your command!”

_If she keeps this up…_ He didn’t know why they’d kept her alive so long, but if she outright declared her loyalty to the Vinsmokes, the Big Mom Pirates might decide that they didn’t need her after all. “Cosette, you can’t-”

This time, it was Katakuri who interrupted him, by pushing his chair back and standing to his full height. Sanji tensed once more, expecting him to denounce Cosette for her actions.

“She’ll be aiding you with dinner preparations tomorrow. I suggest you begin now.”

Without another word, he disappeared into his room, leaving them alone.

_Dinner? Thought the brats only ate sweets…_ Whatever. He had bigger issues to worry about, such as the massive clusterfuck Katakuri had just dropped him into.

Sanji recognized the setup as a test, and a blatantly unsubtle one at that. Bring him someone who was openly on his side, then see if he conspired with them to escape.

It had been a decent amount of time since he’d first been captured, and Katakuri was likely eager to see if his resolve to return to his crew was wavering, especially after he’d revealed to Sanji that he would hold one of the highest positions in their culinary empire. The test probably wasn’t just to determine whether or not he’d changed his mind, but also to what degree he’d shifted, or just if any progress had been made at all.

The whole thing was an easy choice for him, except for the fact that Cosette was tied up in it. If she’d been picked by mere coincidence, then there was a chance he could get her out of this unscathed. But if Katakuri knew of his ties to her…

_She’s a better leverage over me than the Vinsmokes, and that means she’s in danger_.

Cosette was still prostrate in front of him, and hadn’t so much as twitched when Katakuri had spoken. Sanji reached down to tug her to her feet as gently as he could, uncomfortable with her absolute obedience and how she kept her eyes locked on the floor, before urging her with a light grip on her shoulder to follow him into the kitchen.

He shut the door behind them, letting it fall closed with a heavy _thud_. There was still the massive mirror on the wall, and Sanji had no doubt that the Charlottes were listening in, but he felt a little less skittish after putting more distance between Katakuri and Cosette.

Her head was still down when he turned back to look at her. Sanji’s mind was working a mile a minute to process this new development, but the first thing he had to do was guarantee her safety. “Hey, you gotta be careful with that kind of stuff around here. They’re not too fond of Germa, so just pretend you’re loyal to the Charlottes, okay?”

“Yes, Lord Sanji.” Her voice had an odd, trembling quality to it, and she still wasn’t looking up at him.

_Probably terrified of me, after what Niji did to her_. “Look, I’m not a ‘lord’ or anything like that. The Germa you know? I’m _not_ part of them, so whatever power they hold over you, it doesn’t extend to me. I’m just Sanji, okay?”

She nodded, but apparently hadn’t heard a word he’d said. “Y-Yes, Lord Sanji.”

Sanji frowned, noticing the trembling in her voice had worsened. He crouched down to her height, trying to look her in the eyes and make sure what he said stuck.

As he came down, she lifted her head…and tears were _pouring_ down her face.

_Oh, shit_.

“L-Lord S-Sanji…” she managed around wracking sobs, struggling to keep a smile on even through the tremors. “I’m s-sorry…”

_God, she’s just a kid, forced right up in the middle of this._ “Hey, you’re okay. Shh, it’s okay. You’re fine, you’re safe, it’s gonna be okay.”

Cosette shook her head, still fighting to keep a smile on, but eventually it was just too much and she stumbled against the counter, gripping it hard for support. “N-no…they’re all around, a-and…I know they hate us, I s-saw how they hurt Lord Judge and Lord Ichiji and-”

_So they do have them._ It wasn’t something he’d doubted, but it was good to have outside confirmation. She’d obviously seen them tortured, had probably been kept in a cell right alongside them, but Sanji was dead set on making sure she wasn’t going to end up the way they did.

“But they won’t hurt _you_ ,” Sanji told her, his grip on her shoulders soft but firm. “ _You’re_ a chef, and a damn good one at that. You’ve seen how they treat the chefs here, right?”

Her arms were shaking, wracking sobs still coursing through her, but when she answered him her voice was noticeably more stable. “T-They get houses, and food, and money, a-and people say nice things about them and d-don’t hit them…”

Her voice trailed off, but Sanji could see that her feverish trembling was subsiding. “Yeah, that’s right. They treat them well here. _You’ll_ be treated well here. They haven’t hurt you, right?”

“No,” Cosette said, finally looking up at him with relief in her eyes as she reached up to wipe the tears from her face. “They g-gave me a place on the sauce island. I’ve got my own k-kitchen and everything, and they let me decide what I want to make…they even let my friends stay with me. It’s not so bad, I just…I know they hate us so much…”

“You’re not Germa anymore. Germa’s done, gone, _dead_. You’re part of the Big Mom Pirates now, and they don’t hate themselves, right?” Urging her to switch her allegiance was the only way Sanji could be sure she’d be safe. Katakuri had already gone to crazy lengths to secure him, an enemy that had spat in their face, as an ally purely because of his skill; if she willingly agreed to join them, they’d accept her with open arms.

Cosette smiled at him, a faint but genuine expression that was far more comfortable to look at than her forced one earlier. “You’re right…there wasn’t anything left, after they attacked. I…I guess I am one of them, now.”

Sanji smiled back at her, releasing her shoulder. “Yeah, you are. You’re just a chef, and I’m just a chef, and we’re going to plan out dinner for some kids, okay?”

Her posture straightened, features settling into a professional calm. “Yes, Lord…yes, Sanji. What do you have in mind?”

Sanji turned to face his kitchen, mind already shifting gears to prepare for the task ahead. This little situation was far from over, and he sure as hell didn’t plan on letting Katakuri get away with it, but that could come later. Right now, he had a meal to plan.

_The brats like sweet stuff…pears, mangoes, anything fruity, but I’ll need to keep it simple since it’s probably their first real dinner ever…_ “Alright, we’re going to start out with honey-mustard glazed carrots…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been watching a lot of cooking/baking shows lately to get a better feel for how professional chefs like Sanji operate, and let me say, some of the shit they put people through is so sadistic. 
> 
> Like, chefs don’t get to taste their opponents’ dishes, but they look so good??? Inhumane.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late, but I hope you enjoy it! It's a long chapter, so sit tight.

The door opened before he’d even raised his hand to knock, but to be fair, he was kind of expecting it.

Katakuri was standing behind it, clad only in a loose pair of black sweatpants and that massive scarf. When he spoke, his voice echoed through the empty house, but his tone was indifferent. “Was she an adequate aid? She came highly recommended.”

Sanji was in no mood to deal with his games. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed, he pointed his cigarette straight up at Katakuri’s face. “Why the fuck did you do this?”

Katakuri’s facial expressions were difficult to make out when he was directly above him, but Sanji thought he saw an eyebrow go up. “The children requested that you make them dinner. I thought the task too much for one person. Was that not obvious?”

“Cut the shit. Why her?” In the past few hours spent with Cosette, that had been the only thing on his mind, even through the vigorous meal planning and preparation. The chances of her presence being a sheer coincidence were ridiculous, unthinkable even, but Sanji knew he wouldn’t be able to rest unless he knew for certain.

“I told you. She came highly recommended.” Again, that bland, indifferent tone.

This was normally the part where Sanji realized he was at a dead end, Katakuri clearly unwilling to give him a straight answer. He could pick and prod all he wanted, but the man would be a brick wall, refusing to budge.

But not tonight. Tonight, it wasn’t just Sanji’s curiosity on the line; it was Cosette’s life. “Oh, yeah? Not gonna be honest with me, rice ball? Then I’m willing to trade.”

Finally, a shift in expression, Katakuri leaning forward a little with a decidedly interested glint in his gaze. “What, exactly, are you expecting to trade for?”

Sanji glared up at him, having to crane his neck far back to do so. They really were too close together for the angle to work, but Sanji sure as hell wasn’t about to back up. “How about some fucking honesty, to start with? I’m sick of being pulled around. We’re gonna sit down, man to man, and you’re gonna tell me just what the fuck you’re trying to do here.”

Katakuri’s gaze sharpened, and his aura was suddenly heavy on Sanji’s chest, but he didn’t outright dismiss him. “And what are you offering in return?”

Sanji had a few cards he could play, some more powerful than others, but if his suspicions were correct then he’d need the strongest he could get. “I’ll tell you how we figured out your plan. The one to kill me at the wedding.”

Katakuri’s face shifted into what Sanji recognized was a frown. “Bege was aware of it. He had ample time to pass the knowledge on to you. What are you attempting to gain by telling me what I already know?”

But that wasn’t all he had. “Did you wonder why I wasn’t surprised when Pudding showed me her face? That was supposed to surprise me, wasn’t it? To scare me? Disgust me? I was supposed to freeze in my tracks and just sit there while you shot me, right? But Bege never knew that part.”

Katakuri was silent for a moment, his features unreadable. Sanji watched him, his hopes riding on the man’s acceptance but ever wary of the danger in dealing with a Yonko commander. This was a new game they were playing, with Cosette in the mix, and Sanji was determined to not let it throw him off.

After what seemed like ages, but was probably only a moment or so, Katakuri took a step back, pushing the door back until it was wide open. “I think such matters are better discussed in private. Come inside.”

 

Sanji was confused by Katakuri’s wording until he saw the walls of the man’s room. They were the same material all the others in the house were made of, tall and wide, but there was one simple detail that sent icy shivers down the back of Sanji’s spine.

The walls were bare. No mirrors.

_No one else watching_.

Though Katakuri’s room was right next to his own, Sanji had never been inside of it. The setup looked quite similar to his own, with a bed, a wardrobe, a table and a few chairs, but everything was massively scaled up to fit Katakuri’s size. The result was that the room felt far more cozy, a comfortable space as opposed to the mostly unused emptiness that characterized Sanji’s room.

Katakuri settled into one of the chairs at the huge table, neatly folding himself into his seat. Sanji, cursing his already aching neck, decided to jump up on the table so he could meet Katakuri eye-to-eye. Normally, the height difference wasn’t too hard to handle, but now the last thing he wanted was to feel disadvantaged.

A few kicks and he was up, landing deftly on the far corner of the table. It was the only clear space on there, the rest covered with a giant, sprawling map that depicted the whole of Totland. There were marks on it, red scribbles and black crosses, but Katakuri rolled it up and set it aside before Sanji could make out anything else.

A few assorted den den mushis were pushed to the side, and Sanji scowled as he recognized one with a bright white labcoat and a stethoscope. He knew Katakuri always had one on him, but to see them scattered around the house as well was particularly insulting. To think the man really saw him as that weak…as if he was some kind of _child_ that needed to be constantly watched-

_Cosette_.

Sanji swept the thought out of his mind, focusing himself on the task at hand. He needed to know that she would be safe, that everything he promised her would be true. Anything else could come later.

Katakuri was directly across from him, one arm resting on the table as the other raised a steaming cup of tea he’d somehow pulled out of thin air. He didn’t seem at all bothered by the chill in the air, bare chest exposed and tattoos reflecting a dull pink against the buttery yellow candlelight. From above him, Sanji could make out twin scars carved into his cheeks, mangled skin stitched back together with thick black cord. It was an unsettling sight, the symmetry of the lines speaking more of torture than battle, but Sanji wasn’t exactly in the mood to ask for the story behind them.

Even though Sanji was far taller than normal with his place on the table, Katakuri seemed even larger up close. His scarf was easily the size of Sanji’s entire body, and his eyes were large and expressive, the slight shifts in his features much more noticeable. Right now, he looked expectant, leaning slightly backwards to recline against his chair.

_I’m supposed to go first, then._ It had always been that way, and Katakuri had never failed to deliver on his promises, but with so much on the line Sanji couldn’t help being a little uneasy.

He wasn’t quite sure where to start, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before deciding to just get to the point. “I saw her the night she shot Reiju in her room. She taunted her by explaining what would happen at the wedding, how the bullets would tear right through her. I heard everything.”

Katakuri’s features shifted into a frown, the expression much easier to identify when it was right in front of him. “The door was locked. The guard reported that you never left your room. Mont d’Or confirmed it.”

Sanji took a drag from his cigarette, welcoming the cool nicotine that washed through his body. These weren’t exactly easy memories to relive, especially in the middle of the night with an enemy as his only company. “I snuck out to bring her dinner. The guard knew I was gone, but he knew that if he told anybody, they’d punish him for losing me. He agreed to pretend I’d never left.”

Katakuri’s fingers tightened around his teacup, and Sanji briefly rethought his words, struggling to find anything that might have set the man off. But his senses told him there was no danger, and when Katakuri spoke again, his voice was calm. “Why would you have brought her food? The palace provided meals.”

“I was worried about her. She hadn’t eaten much earlier…I thought she might have been nervous about the wedding. I wanted to bring her something simple, maybe help calm her down a little. It was the least I could do.” Sanji’s mouth twisted in a rueful smile as he remembered, before flattening out into a bitter line. “Never would’ve guessed she was just upset about having to deal with my stupid confession.”

“A confession?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

Katakuri’s massive shoulders lifted, an approximation of a shrug. “My responsibility was security. Mama trusted Pudding to handle you at her discretion.”

_‘Handle’ me, huh?_ Well, she’d done a pretty damn good job of it; he’d never even thought of doubting her, right up until that moment outside of her window. “Whatever. I obviously didn’t go through with it. Hearing her shoot my sister kinda put a wrench in that, you know?”

Katakuri cocked his head, studying him for a moment. The pressure of his gaze was so familiar now that Sanji didn’t even feel disturbed by it, and Katakuri settled back soon after. “So you were aware of our plan. I suppose you saw her face uncovered, as well?”

“I didn’t, actually,” Sanji admitted. “I was on the ledge outside her room. Just heard, never saw.”

Another frown, the scars on his face stretching with the movement. “But you weren’t surprised when she revealed herself?”

Sanji wouldn’t say that. “I _was_ surprised. Brook told me she planned to shock me, but I didn’t know what she’d look like. I had no idea what to expect…she took me off-guard.”

“And what did you say to her?” Katakuri demanded, the sudden force in his voice making Sanji take an involuntary step back. All at once, he was far too close, his teacup clattering to the table as he planted his hands on its surface and leaned forward. “I saw her fall to her knees. I saw her crying. What did you do?”

“I don’t know. I just said the first thing that came to mind, that’s it.” Sanji was caught between fear and anger, sensing the aggressive shift in the man’s aura but also recognizing the intimidation attempt. _Hey, this wasn’t part of the deal-_

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know about the Germa girl. _Everything_.” Katakuri’s voice was cold when he spoke of Cosette, the offer made before Sanji even made his complaint. Harsh. Dismissive. “Now, _tell me what you said to her_.”

Sanji bit back his retort, weighing options in his head before forcing himself to calm down. Pudding was safe, out of the Charlotte family’s reach, but Cosette was still in danger; he needed to do whatever he could to secure her safety.

Everything about the wedding was a jumbled mess inside his head, a rush of imminent danger and changing plans and the mad dash to escape. He had to think back to what he’d seen on top of the cake, what he’d felt in the very moment Pudding had raised her veil and revealed her true self to him for the first time. Her façade had been completely wiped away, victorious pride present in every inch of her face, absolute hatred in her deep, deep eyes…

She’d been honest, genuine, _real_ , and so much more of a person than her sugary sweet persona. He’d seen true emotion in her, purpose and drive and everything he’d never known she’d been missing before.

_She’d been glorious_.

“I told her the truth,” Sanji said softly, quietly, Katakuri almost forgotten as he replayed that vision of a fiery, vengeful goddess over and over in his mind. “I told her she was beautiful.”

Katakuri might have said something in reply, but Sanji’s eyes were on the table beneath him, his head lost in memory. He’d known that she was better than him before, a princess to a lowly sea-cook, but seeing her as herself had cemented it in his mind. In the hours later, she had turned to his side, soaking up his presence like she was starved for it, but Sanji knew it was really the acceptance she needed.

He was so familiar with it himself, after all. The desire to latch onto anything that gave kindness, the all-consuming gratitude that came only from being gifted a smile after having nothing for so long.

_She deserves better._ And she was with his crew, far away from the woman that had abused her, and free to bask in all the acceptance she’d been robbed of for her entire life.

When Sanji finally looked up again, it was to see Katakuri sitting back in his chair, arms crossed and fingers cinched tight around his biceps though his expression was unreadable. His eyes were on Sanji, but the look in them was something odd…something lighter than normal. A memory tugged at his mind, of a day so long ago when Katakuri had just started firing back to Sanji’s snide remarks-

“She was screaming for you in the cells. Not for any of the other Germa. Just you.”

Sanji wasn’t expecting Katakuri to speak, so it took him a moment to realize the man had jumped straight into fulfilling his part of the deal. When he did, however, the panic returned in full force. “She asked for me? What was she saying? Was she okay?”

Katakuri uncrossed his arms, reaching for his teacup. Somehow, the thing was half-empty, even though Sanji hadn’t seen the man take so much as a sip. “She wasn’t so much ‘asking for you’ as she was begging us not to hurt you. She insisted on your innocence, though I doubt she knew what we found you guilty of in the first place. And she was injured when we took her from the cell, as far as I know. All the Germa were together in the same cell block, and we didn’t see fit to regulate them. It’s possible one of the soldiers attacked her.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, cold pains lancing through him. He knew exactly who’d done it; it was hardly a question.

_And it’s my fault. I left her with them. Niji would have had all the time in the world to get revenge._

There was nothing he could do about it now, but there was everything he could do to make sure it never happened again. “And you’ve accepted her, right? She’s one of your chefs now?”

“Smoothie claimed her as soon as she revealed her knowledge of sauces. She’s on her personal team, if you must know.” Katakuri set his teacup down on the table once more, this time leaning forward to clasp it with both hands as he narrowed his eyes at Sanji. “I don’t see why you care so much for her. She’s here as an assistant, nothing more.”

If Katakuri didn’t know about his connection to her before, he was sure as hell suspicious of it now, but Sanji damn well wasn’t about to give it away. “She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know what she’s getting into. Didn’t you see how much you fucking terrified her? Why didn’t you get an _adult_?”

Katakuri’s focus on him didn’t lessen in the slightest, gaze narrowing even further “I assumed you’d be more comfortable with someone you were familiar with. Was I mistaken?”

It had been good to see her, but Sanji would much rather have her as far away from this _thing_ between him and Katakuri as possible. “Yeah, actually. She’s too young for this shit.”

Katakuri considered his words for a moment, then nodded. “My apologies, then. I’ll inform my sister of your judgement and have her sent back to the cell-”

“ _No!_ ”

It was out of him before he could stop it, a single, panicked shout that he’d never be able to take back. The full force of Katakuri’s aura was on him in an instant, and trapped alone with the man in his room, Sanji knew there was nowhere he could run to escape what he’d just done. He should play it off, should pretend he’d misheard or misspoken or was simply too tired to think straight.

_But I know what they’ll do to her_.

Sanji couldn’t restrain himself any longer. The fear was too much. “No, don’t. You can’t. They’ll hurt her in there… _they’ll_ _kill her in there_!”

Katakuri was speaking to him, saying something in a tone he vaguely recognized as a question, but Sanji was too far gone to hear him.

“They’ll fucking kill her, and they won’t even fucking think about it, because it’s a game, it’s just a stupid fucking _game_ to them, _they’ll fucking kill her_ -”

Then there was a shadow above him, Katakuri standing fully upright to tower over his smaller form. Hands came down around him, catching him tight in their grasp despite his wild attempts to push them away, and suddenly the ground was gone beneath his feet.

In the next instant, Katakuri’s yellow gaze filled his view, the man lifting him up to face height. Sanji kicked out against the cool air around his feet, struggling to push with enough force to propel himself out of the man’s grip, but in his frenzied state he failed to gather the strength.

“ _Sanji_ ,” Katakuri breathed, all deep rumbling voice and warm solid presence all around him. “You need to calm down.”

It was all too much. The half-conscious haze of the past few days, this new change in his situation, the rush to protect Cosette…it was all catching up to him, and Sanji found that he had no energy left to pretend any longer. It always seemed to end like this, with Katakuri; the man outlasted him in sanity, outmaneuvered him in strategy, and seemed to be able to reduce him to this state at will.

“Talk to me, Sanji,” Katakuri murmured. “You said they’ll hurt her. Who are ‘they’?”

_My brothers_. But if he said that, Katakuri would ask why, and Sanji didn’t have it in him to deal with that right now.

So he just remained silent, arms clasped tight around the hands that held him suspended, breathing in and out and in and out until the panic subsided.

Katakuri gave him another moment, watching him as he settled back into his skin, before seeming to accept the lack of a response. “You don’t have to explain, Sanji. Not now. Just tell me what you want.”

That he could do. The words were falling out of him before he even thought to stop them. “Forget about Cosette. Forget that I knew her before. Forget that she ever had anything to do with me or Germa or the wedding. She’s a good chef, she’ll adapt to wherever you put her. Just…treat her like she’s been here all along.”

Silence. Katakuri’s hands were hot around his middle, and being held in the air for so long was starting to get to him. He felt light-headed, dizzy, unbalanced.

_I need to make sure she’s safe_. After all he had done to her, after all she’d been put through because of him, he wouldn’t let himself rest until he knew she’d be free of him.

“Please,” Sanji whispered, head down, ready to accept whatever Katakuri demanded in return. “I’ll trade for it. Whatever you want. Just…please.”

He waited for an answer, for the inevitable price he’d have to pay to fill such a tall order. He was ready, no matter the cost.

A sigh was all that greeted him, as well as the feeling of wind brushing against him as he was gently lowered back to the table and released.

“You should sleep, Sanji,” came Katakuri’s voice, normal, calm. It was as if he’d just finished reciting this week’s dessert requests instead of talking him down from a panic attack. “It’s late. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Sanji said, the sound echoing dully in his own ears. “Okay.”

 

A few taps on the mirror, a quick word to Brulee, and he was stepping through the glass and into what had become their temporary command room while Whole Cake Chateau still lay in ruin.

Smoothie was already there, sitting at the table and waiting patiently. Her eyes were on the mirror across from her, watching her territory’s shores, but she acknowledged him with a nod.

He took a seat across from her. “A fine idea, sister.”

He could sense his sister’s jolt of confusion though her features remained even, his haki oddly sensitive in a way he was unfamiliar with. It had been that way ever since his battle with the rookie, slowly branching out until he had a vague, hazy sense of what the people around him were feeling.

It was…exciting, to explore this new branch of his ability. It came so easily now that it had been awakened, and he recognized that his sister was surprised by what he said, clearly unused to the praise and unsure what to do in response to it.

Only for a moment, though. She adapted; it was what she was good at. “So it worked?”

“Yes. Quite well, in fact.”

“Did you find what caused it?”

For a person so unafraid to speak his mind, Sanji was far too good at hiding things. He’d spent three days tirelessly working, using his foresight to predict how Sanji would react to a thousand different tactics as the cook went about his life. He’d ended up sitting in silence most of the time, trapped in the frustrating cycle of observing Sanji, planning a move, then looking to the future only to see it fail.

But for all Sanji’s defenses, he’d finally let something slip through. Something interesting…something _vital_.

And Katakuri knew he had a certain visit to make that was _long_ overdue.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in the swing of things, finally. Thanks to everyone who was waiting for being so patient, I know you guys didn’t get any warning that this would be late!

“Brother Katakuri is busy elsewhere this morning. Until he returns, you’re under my supervision.”

Sanji blinked up at her. Smoothie was relaxing in the hard-bread chair at the giant table in the middle of the room with a glass in her hand, which was funny, because Sanji couldn’t imagine how she managed to look comfortable with a sword that big strapped to her back.

He took a moment to absorb her words, trying to decide whether or not it was worth it to press for more information. He’d known Katakuri was missing the moment he woke up; there’d been a hollow feeling somewhere in his gut where the man’s aura usually pushed against him. He’d sensed Smoothie’s presence as well, but her aura was lighter and more pointed, piercing rather than blunt.

Sanji supposed it was for the best that he didn’t have to see Katakuri this morning, though. The warmth of the man’s hands had lingered on his skin long after he’d undressed and slid between the sheets, and from there it was a short, losing battle to keep Katakuri out of his head as he sought to relieve some of the pressure.

He rubbed his eyes, pushing the memory away before it could fully resurface. “Okay. Fine. What’s the plan for dinner tonight, then?”

Smoothie took a sip out of her glass, some kind of translucent orangish liquid swirling around in it. “A few attendants will be stopping by later to help with preparations. Dinner is at seven and the escort ships will take you over at five. Until then, it’s up to you what you want to do.”

Sanji waited a moment for any further instructions, but Smoothie didn’t seem to have anything else to say. He already knew what he wanted to make, and he’d had almost everything separated and portioned out before Cosette left last night, but after weeks of getting used to Katakuri’s precise instructions it was a little jarring to be-

_Cosette_.

He’d had plenty of time to think about her last night as well, and he’d resolved to simply ask Katakuri about his plans for her in the morning. No games, no trading, no trickery; just a straight-up demand to know what was going to happen to her.

But with Katakuri missing, Sanji had no way to know if he’d accepted his request or not. Smoothie had told him that the attendants would be here soon, so if she was amongst them, then he’d have his answer. 

If she wasn’t…

There was nothing to be done for it now. Worrying would get him nowhere, and with such a packed day ahead of him, Sanji didn’t have time to waste on things he couldn’t change.

He was already moving on, already addressing the next problem. He’d planned a sweet-sauce pot roast as a main course for the kids, and he’d need to get it into the slow cooker before he started breakfast or there wouldn’t be time to carve it.

 

The attendants arrived only a few minutes after he’d stepped into the kitchen, and though there were a good dozen of them standing all together in a crowd, it only took Sanji half a second to realize that Cosette wasn’t one of them.

The first feeling to hit him was relief. The less time she spent in his presence, the safer she would be.

_But where is she, then?_

A surge of worry rose in his gut, catching at the back of his throat, but he found he could tamp it down with relative ease. Katakuri had told him Cosette was valuable, and Sanji had seen firsthand how talented of a chef she was; it wouldn’t make sense for them to hurt her.

They’d likely just send her back to wherever she’d been before, some peaceful home in a minister’s town. Why would they do anything else? What would be the point of holding her life over his head? A cooperative chef like her was probably worth twice as much as an enemy chef like him. 

Katakuri had nothing to gain by using her as blackmail, either. He could already trade for practically any information he wanted, so why would he even bother going through extra steps?

In the light of day, without the panic clouding his mind, it was remarkably easy to see logic. Cosette would be fine. His secrets were safe. No one was going to die because of him, and he couldn’t recall how he’d ever thought otherwise.

Sanji clasped his hands together, surveying the lineup of cooks in front of him. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do…”

 

After he’d finished giving his instructions to the chefs, his first order of business was to immediately kick them out. He hadn’t even made breakfast yet, and considering how chaotic his kitchen was going to be when all the dishes started coming out, he wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasted.

Sanji felt more like himself than he had in a while, more calm and in control. His eyelids weren’t heavy from lack of proper sleep, his mind seemed less clouded with a million different worries, and for the first time since he could remember, the light chill in the air didn’t seep into his bones. He was humming as he whisked spices into an egg mix, smiling as he thought of how delicious the air would smell with all the food he’d be making today.

_Perhaps it’s because Katakuri’s gone_. The man alone was enough to drive him crazy, between all the trades and the posturing and the constant sense of being on-edge.

But there was a heat in him that hadn’t died down even now, a comforting memory of strong hands and soft words that grounded him and told him he wasn’t alone. The fact that Cosette was gone spoke for how Katakuri had actually listened to him, even if his reasons for allowing the change were probably self-serving.

Sanji poured the mix into his pan, then swung across his kitchen and popped it into the oven. The cutting board was his next stop; he planned on a simple fried rice for the youngest of the kids, and it’d be easier later if he prepared the chicken now.

It was so easy to distract himself from his own thoughts, now. The fear and guilt were still there, at the back of his mind, but they felt…distant, more like unpleasant memories than actual feelings. There were other things to think about, like how much he was looking forward to making his favorite macaroni tonight and how good his breakfast quiche would taste.

The chicken gave easily beneath his knife, tender and juicy, and Sanji felt the familiar thrill of working with top-tier tools and ingredients. Thinking of how much work he had in front of him was energizing rather than daunting; it’d been so long since he’d been able to go all-out on a feast that the challenge excited him.

Perhaps that was what had lifted his spirits, along with Katakuri’s absence. He loved being relied on, loved having people look forward to his food and trust him to deliver. Making desserts for the Charlotte kids had been all fine and dandy, but their demands had left little room for his input. Here, his skill had been explicitly requested, Katakuri choosing him to make this dinner over all the other chefs in Totland.

With his crew, he’d hardly gone a day without the reassurance that he was wanted. Luffy begging for his food, Zoro seeking him out as a partner when he was itching for a fight, Nami requesting he turn her fresh harvest of tangerines into that juice she loved so much…with them, he  _knew_  he had a place.

_Franky’s hand on his shoulder as he pulled him back to ask for seconds, Usopp tugging his sleeve to sheepishly ask for more fish bait, Robin running her fingers through his hair as she pulled it straight to make a clean trim._

_Heat all around him, hanging in the air but somehow safe, a massive presence near him anchoring him with its strength._

_“Just tell me what you want, Sanji.”_

His fingers clenched tight, involuntarily, and the knife’s smooth movements came to a stuttering halt. He swore under his breath, fighting the urge to shake the memory away, but after a few more uneven slices he was forced to give up and toss the knife down.

There was no point in denying it. The helplessness that came with being a prisoner had struck a little too close to home, and over the past week, he’d been in an uncontrolled freefall sliding deeper into the dark pit inside his head.

It wasn’t Katakuri’s absence that had lifted him from that pit, and it wasn’t the thought of a new challenge, either. Warmth ran through his limbs in thin pulsing tendrils where there’d only been ice before, the steady heat a constant reminder that he was still alive and still fighting.

He could pretend all he wanted, but his body didn’t lie.

Sanji knew it was the touch he really craved, the steady presence of another human being near him that assured him he wasn’t still dreaming of freedom only to wake up to a cold, friendless cell. Isolation was the fear that stalked him, the terror that was waiting behind a few lonely nights, always ready to spring up and take hold if he didn’t fight it off.

Katakuri’s hands around him, strong, comforting, had been a lifeline he’d sorely needed. Being starved of soft words and a warm touch for so long had made him weak, frantic, desperate for-

The timer dial on the oven squeaked, a shrill high-pitched sound that pierced the air; his quiche was done. Sanji snapped out of his thoughts and reached for the oven mitts, making his way over to take it out and shut off the noise before he got a headache. There were bonuses to having the newest, most technologically advanced appliances in his kitchen here, but  _god_ , what he wouldn’t give for the pleasant little  _ding_  of the simple oven on the Sunny.

On the way over, he had to duck to avoid Smoothie’s legs, then duck again as she tried to move them out of his path and only managed to further obstruct him. It was funny how difficult it was to work around her, especially considering she was actually a little smaller than her brother.

Katakuri had made it feel almost natural, his presence heavy but rarely overbearing. It had always been a little cramped in the kitchen with him present, especially before the dividing wall had been knocked down, but Sanji had never worried about tripping over the man’s feet.

With Smoothie, it was far more obvious that she was out of place. While he’d went about preparing breakfast, she’d kept awkwardly moving around, trying to find a place to stand that wasn’t in his way. When she’d finally sat down in the chair in the corner of the room, Sanji then found himself maneuvering around her crossed legs as he gathered pans and ingredients, something that had never been a problem with Katakuri.

He had to duck under her legs once more to drop his quiche off on the cooling rack, narrowly avoiding whacking his head on her kneeguard when she tried to shift to the side. He could hardly be annoyed with her, considering how she was obviously trying her best to stay out of his way, but he was so unused to having obstacles in his kitchen that it took him by surprise each time she moved.

But only a moment’s thought told him that this was normal, and that Katakuri had been the outlier. The man’s foresight had to be a part of his everyday life at this rate, and Sanji suspected that without it he’d have been stepped on or tripped over ages ago. Considering that, it was a wonder Smoothie hadn’t squashed him yet.

Either way, Smoothie’s presence was just another issue to be dealt with in the long day ahead of him, and Sanji’s mind had already moved on to other things. He was crunching numbers in his head and flipping pancakes at the same time, determining when he’d need to start the pork in the second crockpot and how many of the children were likely to even  _touch_  the carrots.

Absorbed as he was, it took him a few moments to recognize the stale feeling in the air, and another few moments to realize that it was coming from Smoothie. It was a familiar feeling, albeit one he hadn’t come into contact with for quite a while, but it was easy enough to pinpoint. He had plenty of experience with it during the long sailing weeks on the Sunny, when island stops had been few and far between.

_Boredom_.

Smoothie, for all her carefully stiff posture and steady gaze on his back, was absolutely bored out of her mind.

There wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t be, really. She was stuck in the same place for however long it would take for Katakuri to return, with nothing to do but watch a bunch of chefs dart around in a kitchen that was far too small for her. Sanji never got tired of his work, but for a Sweet Commander who was probably used to battle plans and the dealings of a Yonko, it had to be pretty dull.

Funny that he hadn’t picked the feeling up from Katakuri before, considering how much time the man spent just sitting around watching him. Maybe he was just better at hiding it; he  _was_  a master of observation haki, after all.

Well, he could hardly let boredom run rampant in  _his_  kitchen, especially when the kind of food he was making today would hardly require his full attention. Sanji snagged a plate down from a cabinet above him, neatly slicing himself a square of fresh-baked quiche and leaning back against the counter to face Smoothie.

“So, what does a Sweet Commander do for fun around here?”

 

“…and he’s throwing  _noodles_  at me,  _out of his body_ , and he’s not even a devil fruit user! He’s just carrying around this big ramen-making machine all the time, and he fights by beating people up with noodles!”

The timer on the oven squeaked its shrill alarm, but it only got a half-second of it out before one of the dozen chefs scurrying around the kitchen banged its shell to turn it off. A blast of heart seared the room for a moment as the massive oven was opened, the succulent-sweet smell of roasted fruits filling the air, then the oven door slammed shut and the completed dish whisked off to the main room to be stacked with the others.

Smoothie leaned in a little closer to see Sanji around the massive turkey he was slashing away at. “I’ve heard stories of the kinds of men the government recruited for their special forces, but I’ve never fought one myself. Was he truly one of their best?”

A knife brandished in the air, a quick flick of his wrist, and the meat slid cleanly from the bones in thick, steaming slices. “I don’t remember what team he said he was on…six? Seven, maybe? But they trusted him enough to have him guarding a train to Enies Lobby, so he was definitely  _somebody_.”

“I would like to face the Cipher Pol, one day,” Smoothie mused, leaning back in her chair and sipping from her glass. “I hear there is a man who can transform into a giraffe. It’s my favorite flavor, and Zoans always have a delightful spice.”

Sanji stacked the slices on a giant silver platter, arranging them in tasteful piles with ease before sliding the plate down the counter for the next chef to garnish. “Promise you’ll bring that juice sampler next time you visit? The way you described that cherry oak and pine mix makes me think it’d be perfect in a vodka sauce.”

“I promise,” Smoothie assured him, pulling up her legs to allow a pig-snouted chef to pass by with the last sizzling tray of fried dumplings. “And if you promise to give my personal team the recipe for that sour peach compote, I’ll squeeze you anything you like.”

Sanji grinned as he wiped down his knives, tossing them behind him to land perfectly back in their slots in the cutting block. “Deal.”

Smoothie smiled down at him behind her glass, a delighted shimmer in her eyes as voices rose around the kitchen informing Sanji that all the dishes had been completed. He clapped his hands, ushering everyone outside as they all swarmed around the gigantic array of food that had been piled into the main hall and congratulated each other on their work.

Heavy pounding came from the front door, and Smoothie rose from her chair to follow Sanji out of the kitchen.

Dinner was ready, and their escort was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird...first chapter that Katakuri wasn't really present in at all. Not a lot of those.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I'M STILL ALIVE

“You gonna say something, or you just gonna sit there and watch us like a fucking freak?”

Reiju had long ago given up on trying to prevent her brothers from goading their captors. It wasn’t like they felt pain from the beatings, anyway.

“Yeah,” Niji chimed in. “What the fuck do you want, asshole?”

Yonji wouldn’t be left out. “Goddamn creep. Tell us what you’re after, so we can tell you to go fuck yourself with it!”

Only silence answered them. Unlike the jailers they’d had before, Katakuri didn’t seem keen on taking the bait.

He’d set up a chair right outside of their cell, a good distance away so he could still peer in but close enough that the trident resting against the wall beside him wouldn’t have any trouble reaching them. He didn’t have a tray of torture instruments next to him, nor did he have branding irons or salted ice or flesh-eating acids, but by now the Charlottes had to know those things were useless on them.

Instead, he’d brought a snail.

It was a common recorder snail, bright yellow eyes open and facing directly into their book-prison from its perch on the floor. It was impossible to tell if it was broadcasting the footage or simply recording it, but either way, it was obvious that Katakuri had intended this to be some sort of interrogation.

Reiju shifted in place, tugging at the cuffs that secured her wrists to the wall above her. She wasn’t nearly strong enough to break them, but it was good to move every once in a while to keep the blood flowing. She had no way of knowing how long they’d be here; they’d dragged them out of the bigger cell a little while ago, tossing them in here to wait for Katakuri to arrive.

She’d prepared for the worst, but so far, all Katakuri had done was watch them, flipping a jellybean every four seconds on the dot like some kind of twisted clock.

Reiju lifted her head, feeling that cool, disinterested stare fall on her for a moment. His gaze was cold, focused and unblinking as it swept across the cell before returning to her. Their eyes met for a moment, but that was all she needed to see the sharpness there.

There was intelligence in that calculated silence, confidence in his relaxed position, strength in the way his yellow eyes glowed even in the low light. This was the man that had crushed Ichiji in a matter of seconds, and Reiju had no doubt that he could have handled them all just as easily.

But as his gaze passed hers again, right as Niji flung another insult, she caught a flash of something else. Something icy, patient, _aware_. He might not be responding now, but he was sizing them up, counting every harsh word and sneered barb towards some unknown tally.

When he hurt them, it wouldn’t be out of some blind, provoked rage.

No, it would be because he _wanted_ to hurt them.

Though Reiju had long stopped caring about what happened to them, the function in her that had been taught to recognize danger had never really subsided, and it told her in no uncertain terms that Katakuri was the greatest threat here. They’d faced plenty of guards and vengeful Charlotte siblings that had the will to kill them before, but unlike them, Katakuri had the ability to actually do it.

_Offer him information,_ the tactician in her whispered. _You’ve memorized the full military capabilities of dozens of countries, with their standing armies, supply chains, and leadership webs. He’s angry at your brothers, but not you. You could get out of this_.

_Fuck off_ , she told it, more out of habit than any real feeling of anger. She didn’t feel much of anything, anymore.

“Play your game already,” Reiju told him, her brothers quieting around her as they recognized her voice. She didn’t talk much now; she hadn’t spoken for almost a week, actually. There just wasn’t much to be said. “You won’t get anything out of us by waiting. What do you want?”

Katakuri’s gaze shifted to her. “Perhaps I’m enjoying the view.”

They were quite a sight, beaten and crippled and chained with enough seastone to choke a bear, but there wasn’t the slightest hint of humor in that deep, cold voice.

Her brothers were predictably roused, shouting out their own insults in return, but Reiju already knew what he was really after; it was the same thing they’d been after from the start. She’d never let Germa’s science fall into their hands, but it was more out of a desire to wipe the Germa completely from the world than out of loyalty to the dead empire.

Her brothers also had little care for their father’s ruined dream, but Reiju had no doubt that they’d carry their secrets to the grave for sheer spite. It was the only thing that drove them nowadays.

“You’re wasting your time,” she told Katakuri. “You won’t get anything out of us.”

Ichiji was the first to sense the shift in the conversation. “After our science again? I assumed even the worst of fools would have known to give up by now.”

“Yeah,” Niji sneered, “You’re all too stupid to find the goddamn ‘on’ button, so don’t even fucking think about-”

“Your technology is my brother’s concern, not mine. He shouldn’t have too much difficulty extracting it, especially since we now have _all_ of the Vinsmokes.”

_All of the Vinsmokes._

Horror rose in her, the first emotion she’d felt since their capture. There was only one reason he’d phrase it that way. There was only one reason he’d stress that he had all of them…

They had Sanji, too.

The prison she could handle, the torture she could survive, and there was nothing they could take from her that she didn’t consider lost to begin with. Their father had been dead inside since the betrayal, the Germa kingdom had never meant anything to her, and her ‘brothers’ hadn’t been brothers to start with. She expected to die here; was counting on it, even. For all of them to perish was the only way for the Vinsmoke name to be permanently wiped away.

But Sanji…

  _How can they have him? The Strawhats picked him up, I saw them! He escaped!_

If they had him…and he wasn’t with them…

_Are they keeping him in a cell somewhere alone?_ God, anything but that. She’d seen firsthand what that did to him, how the isolation bit into his flesh and ate him alive until he was a panicked, shivering ruin.

_No, Sanji, god, no…_

But there was nothing she could do. Their first rescue mission had barely succeeded, and that had been when they’d had their entire kingdom behind them. They wouldn’t stand a chance now- no, _she_ wouldn’t stand a chance now. Her brothers had only helped the first time as one last ‘fuck you’ to the Big Mom Pirates, and with a bitter knot lodging in her gut, Reiju remembered that she was the only one who even cared.

If she fought now, alone, Katakuri would crush her. She could attempt to trade her knowledge for his life, but those cold amber eyes burned into her; Katakuri would be the last man on earth to honor a bargain with a weak, helpless prisoner.

It took her brothers longer to make the connection than it had taken her, but eventually, the realization sank in.

“You have Sanji too?” Ichiji asked, disbelief ringing in his voice.

There was no answer, but they didn’t need one.

“Man, I sent that little fucker flying straight to his ship, and he _still_ got caught? What a fucking _waste_.” Niji complained. “I took hits for that useless piece of shit!”

_Tap_. _Tap_. The jellybean kept up its regular flight, landing just as the second hand on the clock ticked each time.

“Hey, if you got him, why haven’t we seen him yet?” Yonji asked, suspicion heavy in his voice. “Did he get a different cell because he was the husband or whatever? Cause that’s bullshit!”

“Yeah, why don’t you toss him in here with us?” Beside her, Niji’s smile was as cold as it was wide, a twisted sort of eagerness darkening his features. “I haven’t had fun in _ages_. Not since that little bitch, anyway. What the fuck was her name? Candy? Camie?”

“Cosette,” Ichiji supplied.

The jellybean fell, and was caught neatly in the middle of a palm.

It didn’t rise again.

 

“There are plums in this! I _hate_ plums! Hate them, hate them, _hate them_!” Dolce slammed his fists on the table, the roasted fruits on his plate bouncing up and down with the force.

“Gimme your plums! I love plums! Gimme all of them _right now_!” Dragée sang, his light, airy voice contrasting bizarrely with the way his fingers were formed into claws, digging into his brother’s shoulders with a strength that had to be painful.

“But everybody else gets knives!” Anana wailed from somewhere on the other end of the table. “Why can’t _I_ have any? It’s not fair!”

Safe in his carriage a good twenty meters away, Sanji propped his feet up on the door and watched the show.

When they’d arrived on the island with a train of carriages in tow, Perospero had been waiting at the picnic table set up outside the kids’ mansion, and he’d insisted on tasting every single dish before the kids were brought out. Sanji had bristled at the unspoken accusation, but Perospero wasn’t Katakuri; he didn’t know what the consequences would be for arguing with him. It was far safer to just swallow it and move on, and the bliss on the man’s face when he tasted his coconut mille crepe cake certainly didn’t hurt.

Perospero seemed quite content to ignore his presence completely, though, only addressing Smoothie to tell her that Katakuri would be joining them for dinner. Sanji had wanted to linger, weighing the possible consequences of asking what Katakuri was doing instead of defending his precious little siblings from an evil sea-cook, but Smoothie called him over to help her pour out juice for the kids.

She was quick as she worked, folding the massive ruby over in her hands in well-practiced movements to squeeze it dry over a pitcher. “It’d be best if you stay back when they come out. Without Brother Katakuri here, they won’t be on their best behavior.”

Sanji paused in lining up cups to throw her a look of disbelief. “What, so when I’ve visited before… _that_ was their best behavior?”

Smoothie tossed the desiccated gem aside and picked up the pitcher, portioning out juice into the cups. “If Brother Katakuri was there, then yes. No one wants to disappoint him by acting up. Since he’s not here, it might be safer if you stand a little further away. That’s all.”

Sanji thought of how easily the kids had crushed his best cake stand. His _solid_ _steel_ cake stand, made for holding cakes for giants, cakes that probably weighed as much as a small house. The stand had been ruined, crumpled in on itself as if it were made of paper.

And if that was their _good_ behavior…“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

 

Predictably, the brats hadn’t reacted well to being served something that wasn’t pure sugar.

As soon as plates were set down in front of them, there had been utter chaos. The air was filled with shrieked demands for dessert, and the noise alone was enough to make Sanji glad he’d decided to stay back. Chefs had scurried around the table catching dishes as they were pushed off, and Sanji had felt divinely blessed for the fact that cutlery hadn’t been brought out yet when Anglais started throwing everything he could get his hands on.

Sanji had planned for the mille crepe to only be served after they’d finished dinner, but the brats sniffed it out within seconds of abandoning the table, mobbing the carriage it was stored in and tearing it to pieces. Shredded cloth and twisted metal flew through the air, almost impaling one of the chefs, and the massive cake disappeared in a matter of moments.

When it was gone, the screaming started anew, the kids stomping around the wreckage of the carriage with enough force to shake the ground. Perospero tried to guide them back to the table, but they turned on him, climbing his robes and trying to steal the lollipops on his hat.

Smoothie had been right; _this_ was definitely their bad behavior. If they’d been scary before, they were downright terrifying now, screeching demons that were a living testament to how evil kids could be. He’d known they were strong, of course, but it had been almost funny how clumsy and childish they’d been with their strength. Now, it was about the furthest thing from funny one could get.

Sanji watched as Perospero frantically tried to escape their grasp, an undignified squawk escaping him when Lolly managed to snatch his hat. He reached for it at the same time Mint pulled on his leg, and he fell to the ground in a pile of tattered yellow cloth like the world’s most spindly banana.

_Okay, maybe it’s a little funny_.

It didn’t last long, though. While most of the kids had been grabbing at Perospero and screaming for candy, one of the youngest had crawled up onto the table and picked up a slice of the glazed turkey. One curious bite, a few slow chews, and her eyes had gone wide.

_Ah_ , Sanji had thought, lowering the two massive cutting boards he’d planned to use as shields. _Success._

It didn’t take the others long to notice her stuffing her face, and after they did, they’d swarmed the table with all the frenzy of a rabid horde. Cups were thrown, food was stolen from others’ plates then stolen again by someone else, and the picnic area sounded more like a battleground than an evening meal.

But the kids were eating, and they were _enjoying_ it. Sure, the carrots had to be tossed around the table a few times before someone finally held on to them, but none of the food was untouched. The brats were tearing through his dishes, devouring everything in front of them with undeniable enjoyment.

Sanji kicked back in one of the few remaining carriages and pulled out his own meal, a ham sandwich he’d whipped up before leaving Katakuri’s house. There was still some food left on the table, but he’d leave that to Perospero and Smoothie; there was no way in hell he was getting any closer to the brats.

Smoothie was the first to move after the kids collapsed on the grass from stuffing themselves, carefully stepping around them to make herself a plate of whatever was left over. She sat down next to Sanji’s carriage, still tall enough that she had to look down to address him even though the cabin was raised a good few feet off the ground. “I do believe that was a success.”

Sanji grinned up at her, raising his sandwich in a toast to the kids passed out in food comas around them. “Yeah, I’d call it that.”

Perospero finally began picking himself up, a mess of multicolored cloth and bits of candy. He rooted around in the grass for his hat, grimacing as he saw the state it was in. When he spoke, it was with a long-suffering sigh. “It certainly could have gone better.”

Sanji couldn’t resist a jab; the man just looked so _stupid_ , wearing half a hat and shredded robes and acting as if he hadn’t been tossed around by a bunch of children. “Aw, c’mon. You’re just upset you couldn’t-”

He straightened, cutting himself off mid-sentence without warning.

The fine hairs on the back of his neck had risen.

The air felt different somehow, thinner and lighter around him as if a storm was rolling in. His senses had suddenly gone on high alert, casting themselves out to see if a threat was nearby, and he closed his eyes to better focus for a moment.

He couldn’t feel anything off, just the presence of Smoothie and Perospero nearby and the low itch that told him they were both still hungry. The kids slept peacefully in the grass, and the only noise was the sound of plates clinking together as chefs went around with bins collecting all the dirty dishes.

Smoothie was looking at him now, a frown on her face. Nothing had changed around them; the sky was still clear, turning soft hues of orange as the sun set, and the wind was a pleasant warm breeze against his skin.

It looked like nothing was wrong.

_Something was very wrong._

 

“I must take my leave. Inform the ship that I expect them to be ready to depart the moment I arrive.”

The jailor bowed low. “At once, Lord Katakuri. Would you like the cell to be cleaned, or left as it is?”

Katakuri tossed the dirty rag into the bucket beside him, examining Mogura’s blade. Even a single spot left unclean could tarnish the blade, considering how the stuff that had been covering it acted almost like acid. “I leave that to my brother’s discretion. If it gets too close to the guard posts, have it removed.”

Another bow. “You’re too generous, Lord Katakuri. It’s an honor to be graced by your presence.”

Katakuri stood, finally satisfied with his work. With Mogura sunk back into his flesh where it belonged, he could finally leave. He didn’t have an issue with spending time in his brother’s ‘library’, but he’d spent far more than he’d originally intended to, and there were more pleasant places to be.

The jailor bowed a final time as Katakuri walked out through the massive double doors leading to Whole Cake Island, then motioned for the gate to be shut quickly behind him. It was rare that someone as important as a Sweet Commander visited their prison, and he didn’t dare annoy Lord Katakuri by making him listen to the screams of the other prisoners longer than he had to.

Watching the lord work had been an honor indeed, but now it was time for the least exciting part of his job, and the jailor sighed as he waved his underlings into action. They’d need soap, sponges, mops, and plenty of water to clean up the mess the prisoners had made, and it would take ages to dry out the pages of their book-cell afterwards.

He walked over to the cell, taking care to avoid stepping in the viscous liquid that dripped from its bars. The rumors that these particular prisoners were more glorified science experiments than actual people seemed to be true, judging by how the substance bubbled and hissed on the cold tiles.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” the jailor told them, though he knew he wouldn’t get a response. They were far too gone for that, now. “What you’ve done is absolutely unforgivable. Such a crime will not go unpunished in these lands.”

Silence, except for the dripping. It would be a while before that stopped. It came evenly, a scattered rain of droplets timed to fall with the movement of the second hand on the clock that neatly displayed a time of half past seven.

“After all, you’ve made Lord Katakuri late for dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive...but the Vinsmokes probably won't be lmao


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now the longest chapter in the story, almost 500 words more than the previous longest chapter, so buckle up. I’ve been taking a lot longer to get out the most recent updates, but it’s probably because they keep getting longer as the story moves faster and faster.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

The first cannonball landed far away.

The dust cloud that rose up around where it had landed was tinted pink, and Sanji watched as fragments of candy were flung into the air to fall amongst the other houses. The sound of it hit a half-second later, its impact echoing through the streets right along with the screams that rose in the distance.

They all moved at once.

Sanji kicked open the door to his carriage, diving out and rolling on the grass. Cannonballs that large could only come from battleships, and though the first one had missed them by almost a mile, Sanji knew they’d get closer.

Smoothie was standing, her empty plate tossed aside, towering taller than he’d ever seen her before. She held her arm out in front of her and barked orders into a transponder snail, taking off down the road towards the shore with footsteps that shook the ground as blue-shirted chefs scrambled madly to get out of her way.

Candy sprung from the ground, a massive golden wave crawling upwards to solidify into a hard, shiny wall that shielded the clearing. Perospero shouted at the children on the grass, startling them out of their after-meal drowsiness and leading them in a wild stampede back to the safety of the mansion.

At the edge of the clearing, watching the chefs struggle to load up the carriages and guards pour in from the outer streets to guard the children, Sanji abruptly realized what situation he was in.

Smoothie was nowhere in sight, though he could still hear her pounding footsteps fading in the distance. Perospero wasn’t anywhere to be seen as well, having disappeared inside the mansion with the brats. The chefs he’d arrived with were already racing off back the way they’d came, and the guards were busy watching the skies.

Another cannonball flew through the air, this time landing close enough that Sanji could feel the earth shake beneath his feet. Nobody ordered him to stay put, nobody rushed to his side to defend him. Nobody even so much as looked at him. Smoothie was supposed to be his guard, taking Katakuri’s place as his temporary jailer, but she was long gone now.

_There’s nobody watching._

Sanji didn’t waste time. He sidestepped behind the carriage, leaning his back against it and listening intently. No voices called for him; no one seemed to even notice he’d moved.

Heat crackled through his veins, a thrill rising beneath his skin. This might be the chance he was waiting for, the distraction he needed to slip away and return to his crew. He knew the invaders weren’t his friends, just by the sheer knowledge that Usopp and Franky would never use something as boring as cannonballs when they had plants and lasers at their disposal, but they couldn’t have gotten this far into Big Mom’s territory without a sizeable fleet.

With a fleet came ships, and with ships, Sanji finally had a way out of here.

He waited for the piercing screech of another incoming cannonball to distract the guards before he slid out from behind the cover of the wagon, sprinting for the houses on the near side of the clearing. He ducked into the nearest doorframe, once more holding his breath and listening closely.

Nothing but the cries of civilians. He was truly alone.

Hope soared in him, rising so quickly he felt almost lightheaded. In all the hours he’d spent planning for escape, all the nights he’d lain awake thinking of when he should run for it, he’d never even dared dream of an opportunity like this.

In fact, it had been so completely unexpected that Sanji found himself at a loss. In all the scenarios in his head, he’d imagined his crew would be the one invading to save him. His planned first step after getting away from Katakuri was always to run straight to Luffy, and he knew that together they’d be able to handle whatever the Big Mom Pirates threw at them.

But here, there was no Luffy, and as the cannonfire began to truly rain down, Sanji paused to think about his situation.

Even unsupervised, with Katakuri missing and the island under attack, his ‘perfect opportunity’ wasn’t really perfect at all. He’d seen firsthand how fast the Charlottes could mobilize their forces, and unless the invaders were another Yonko’s crew, they’d be slaughtered whenever the heavy hitters arrived. Sanji had watched Smoothie herself heading to the island’s port; at the very least, he risked being recognized and recaptured if he tried to steal a ship.

Even if he did manage to sneak onboard unnoticed, he’d still have to sail with enemy colors all the way through the heart of Big Mom’s territory. He had no doubt that the Charlottes would hunt down every last ship of those who’d been stupid enough to attack them, and if he was caught trying to escape, he knew he’d lose all the freedoms he’d worked so hard to earn over the past months.

The adrenaline that had surged through him moments before curled in on itself, wilting in the face of logic. There in the doorway, listening to the distant booming of cannons and the rallying shouts of soldiers, Sanji was forced to face reality.

He wasn’t going to escape like this.

The safest course of action, the one that would guarantee he kept Katakuri’s trust, would be to go back to Perospero with the kids and pretend he’d been searching for them all along. No doubt he’d be thrown in a cell or something until everything quieted down, but nobody could accuse him of trying to escape. The invasion would be repelled, and life would go back to normal until his crew really did come for him.

But his feet refused to move. After all this time spent under the heavy presence of people who kept him from everything he loved, it went against every nerve in his body to walk away from freedom and back into the glorified cage.

 _You’re so close!_ His mind was screaming at him. _Nobody’s watching! Run for it! You won’t get another chance!_

 _It’s suicide to try_ , he argued back, still frozen in the doorway. _The odds of success are too low, and the punishment for failure is far too high. I have to go back. The longer I stay away, the more suspicious I look_.

But still his feet refused.

An eerie, high-pitched whistling filled the air, and Sanji had the sudden sense that something big was coming _right now_. His legs finally unfroze in the face of imminent danger, not bothering to look up as he took off running down the alley as fast as he could. He made it past four houses, five, six-

The world exploded in white.

 

Sanji stayed low to the ground until the ringing in his ears stopped, blinking away the spotty afterimages of the blast. The sickly-sweet scent of burning sugar hit him a moment later, the rush of air that it came with as hot as a furnace.

He turned to his side to avoid breathing it in, registering the sight of a line of destroyed gingerbread houses burning merrily behind him. He hadn’t made it out of the bomb’s reach, but judging by how he was still in one piece, he’d at least managed to avoid the worst of it.

Flames roared at the end of the street, and Sanji stumbled to his feet, glancing around to regain his bearings. The bomb had landed behind him, right by the kids’ mansion; he wouldn’t be surprised if the place had been blown to pieces.

 _There goes that plan_.

He slipped behind the shattered gumdrop wall of a house, waiting for someone to come running down the street to escape the building. The Charlotte brats were absolute monsters, and it he wouldn’t put it past them to survive something like that, especially considering how tough Perospero could make those candy walls of his.

The kids would probably ignore him if they saw him, but Perospero was the last person Sanji wanted to run into right now. Smoothie had shown herself to be reasonable so far, and Katakuri had proved well enough that he wanted Sanji alive, but there was an air around Perospero that kept Sanji distinctly on-edge. Now that he hadn’t had the chance to blatantly turn himself in, he doubted the man would trust him.

Nobody came. Screaming rose in the distance, more cannonballs booming in the streets to his left, but he couldn’t hear anything that sounded like Perospero or the kids.

 _Maybe they made it into the mirror realm_. There were mirrors all over the place, and there certainly had to be some in the mansion itself.

Thinking of mirrors reminded Sanji of his own situation, and he cast a frantic look around to see if any were nearby. If he could get the attention of whoever was behind them, he might be able to-

_Danger, above._

Sanji ducked, just in time to avoid the slash. It cut through the candy-cane building beside him and into the gumdrop one he was hiding behind, hard sugar walls cracking and groaning as they collapsed in on themselves. He kept low, slipping through a crack in the bottom of the wall out into the alley next to it.

 _People coming this way_.

Sanji pressed himself against the wall of the next house over, searching around for a place to hide. The building right behind him had caved in, gingerbread sheets propped up in a way that provided a spot just the right size, and he was already taking a step towards it when he noticed movement beneath the shelter.

Yellow flashed in the light of the setting sun, and even over the crackling of the fire, Sanji could hear a child’s voice hushing another. He took another step forward and leaned over to get a better look, that particular shade of yellow sparking a vague memory.

It was the girl with the pixie nose and the little flowers in her hair. He recognized her from dinner; she’d been the one to first try the turkey, leading her older siblings back to the table. Crouched down next to her beneath the makeshift shelter was the kid with the spotted hood, and a buck-toothed boy he didn’t recognize.

 _Kids? What the fuck are they doing here?_ Sure, the mansion had been smashed to bits, but Perospero had been there. Sanji had figured the guy would want to keep the brats all together. Had they run when the first cannonball had landed, and gotten separated from the rest?

But he had bigger things to worry about now, like the dozen or so men that stepped over the jagged shards of candy-cane and right into the alley he was hiding in. They weren’t wearing the bright pastels of Big Mom soldiers, and judging by the unfamiliar jolly roger tattooed on the biggest one’s blood-stained chest, they weren’t here to be friendly either.

Sanji had sensed them coming, but the sight of the kids had distracted him, and now there was no way to avoid being noticed. He stepped back, swinging to the side just in time to dodge the volley of bullets that came his way.

“Come out here, you little fucker,” the big one snarled, tossing his used pistols aside and drawing two more from a belt around his waist. “I know you’re there. Too scared to face me, pussy?”

None of them looked particularly intimidating, likely just a few lucky grunts that had made it past the chaos at the port, but Sanji wasn’t looking to waste his time on fodder. He had to find a mirror, and he had no interest in being anywhere near the Charlotte brats when their older siblings weren’t around. He’d gotten in enough trouble because of them before.

The men spread out, advancing down towards the alley and sending a few more easily-dodged volleys his way, but Sanji was on the move. He kicked his way through a fallen gingerbread wall, sliding through into the next house too fast for the others to take aim. He looked to the sky, trying to decide if it was worth it to jump and risk the cannonballs so he could get an aerial view.

A girl’s high-pitched screech rent the air, and Sanji instinctively wrenched around towards it. Through the hole he’d busted in the side of the house, he could see the little girl from before on her back on the ground. There were tears in her eyes, and he could hear the low chuckling of the man with the guns above the roar of the flames.

It wasn’t his problem, though.

Pirates like these would only be looking for hostages, something they could use to make sure the stronger fighters didn’t slaughter them on sight. The girl might be panicking now, but the second she got it in her head to fight back, she’d easily crush all of them. For people who’d been brave enough to attack a Yonko’s territory head-on, they were fools to attempt to kidnap Big Mom’s actual children.

Then again, being absolute morons was a pretty good reason to attack a Yonko’s territory as well.

Sanji turned away, his mind moving on to other things, only to wrench right back around when a gunshot and another, more desperate scream echoed in the alley behind him.

The man had bent down now, both pistols cocked as he loomed over the child, one smoking with the remnants of what must’ve been a warning shot. With her back on the ground, the girl didn’t look nearly as fearsome as she had at the dinner table, and from an angle like this she didn’t even seem much bigger than a normal child.

In contrast, the man looked like the devil himself, light from the nearby fires flaring up and casting long shadows on his face. The man’s grin promised the farthest thing from mercy, cruel delight flashing in his eyes. “I knew that fat bitch’s spawn was around here somewhere.”

He raised his pistol, aimed straight at her face, and the kid trembled, crawling backwards as fast as she could. She was so scared, just a little girl inside even for all her size, her hands going up to cover her eyes-

_Reiju’s hands, reaching through twisted bars to free him from hell itself-_

Sanji launched himself straight through the building in a split-second, pure white-hot rage surging inside of him. His heel whipped out, striking the man’s hand hard enough that he heard bones crunch as the gun went flying.

He turned sideways to dodge the startled half-punch aimed for his head, then kicked out again, this time catching the man in the gut and shooting him clear down the alley to crash into a hard-candy building at the end of the street.

Sanji let his outstretched leg hang in the air for a few moments, waiting for the other men to recognize the defeat of their leader. It took them longer than it should have, more than one dumbly staring at the space Sanji was standing where the other man had been just seconds before.

“Funny that you guys are fighting a kid,” Sanji mused over their shouts of alarm, planting his foot and turning to face them, “when _I’m_ right here.”

They went down quickly, none of them nearly fast enough to dodge his strikes, and he'd just finished a particularly satisfying blow right in the last one’s face when danger rang out in his head.

 _Above, from the left_.

Sanji kicked off the ground, launching himself sideways to avoid the slash that cleaved the wall he’d just been standing next to in half. So that was where the swordsman of the group had gone to; none of the fighters he’d just downed had looked strong enough to cut the candy-cane earlier.

Two more cuts crisscrossed the wall, the structure attached to it crumbling as a man stepped through. Gold earrings glittered in the low light of the flames, and Sanji recognized the same jolly roger skull marked on his chest. When he raised his sword, it was spattered with blood, and also something that looked a lot like buttercream.

Sanji tilted his head to the side, sizing the man up. This one was stronger than the others, a definite aura coming off him as he sized Sanji up himself, but he was nothing compared to what Sanji had faced before. The slowness with which he’d swung, the ungraceful way he was holding his blade now…Zoro wouldn't even blink at this guy.

The man smiled at him, a wide grin that showed more than a couple teeth missing. “It’s your lucky day. You get to be killed by Galewind Gardy, the fastest blade in the-”

“Look,” Sanji cut him off, waving his hand. “The faster you shut up, the faster I kick your ass. The faster I kick your ass, the faster I can get out of here. How about that?”

The man’s ugly smile dropped into an equally ugly scowl. “Listen here, you little shit, I ain’t got time to-”

What a coincidence. Sanji didn’t have time for this either. “Just swing your shiny stick at me so I can knock your head off, alright?”

The man finally shut up, his eyes narrowing as he settled into a proper fighting stance.

Sanji shifted his weight to his back leg, ready to lunge forward as soon as his enemy moved. The other man was strong enough to use armament haki, but he relied pretty heavily on-

He felt the familiar pressure before he sensed the incoming danger, his feet kicking him backwards before he even realized he’d moved. His opponent lunged forward, weapon outstretched in an attempt at a thrust, but it never even came close.

A golden blur burst through the pile of rubble next to them, spearing straight through Sanji’s opponent and sinking several feet into the next house over from its sheer momentum.

A black leather-clad leg stepped past the rubble and into the alley.

Katakuri’s massive frame filled the open space and made it seem much smaller than it actually was, his boots planted in the wreckage of two separate houses beneath him as he stood upright. His yellow eyes gleamed in the night, his face a dark shadow too far up for the light of the flames to reach.

The gold gaze moved, weight landing heavy on Sanji as it found him far below. The familiarity of it was almost comforting, though the knowledge the feeling brought was significantly less so. His jailer was back now; if he’d ever had the slightest chance to escape, he’d just lost it.

“ _Big brother!_ ”

“ _Big brother Katakuri!_ ”

“ _Brotheeeer!_ ”

Three voices rose in a wailing cry at the same time, three bodies bursting through the rubble to swarm their older brother. They wrapped their arms around his legs, hugging his boots and clinging tight to him, screeching their relief all the while.

Katakuri’s gaze left Sanji, focusing instead on his younger siblings. He knelt to the ground to reach them, his face finally coming into the light. He seemed no different from how he usually was, that easy calm still there in his expression, the scarf he always wore still neatly in place.

He whispered something to them in a low voice, and in the distance, Sanji recognized Perospero calling out. It seemed like these few weren’t the only ones who’d gotten scattered when the bomb had gone off, and Sanji counted himself lucky that he hadn’t run into any more of the little brats.

After a few more whispered words, the kids left their brother’s side and raced around the burning alley towards the sound of Perospero’s shouting, stopping to sneer at the unconscious pirates who’d threatened them before. The little girl Sanji had protected kicked one of them, the force enough to lift the man several feet up before he crashed back down again.

Watching her toss him around like he was nothing, Sanji wondered why he’d even bothered in the first place.

Katakuri was looking at him now, his trident retrieved and planted points-down into the cracked candy street as he shifted to get a closer look at Sanji. The familiar pressure was back on him, washing over his arms and chest and face as Katakuri searched him all over.

Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it. His voice was loud when he spoke, clear enough to cut through the crackling of flames and the far-off shouts of soldiers. “When I came to the mansion, it was already under attack. You ran, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Sanji told him, keeping his own voice carefully even. “Smoothie disappeared. Couldn’t find Perospero. Was looking for a mirror when these guys found me.”

“Smoothie should have stayed with you. I had already been called to deal with the attack.” There was no accusation in his tone, nor any anger. It seemed like the man was more disappointed at his sister’s choice to abandon him than anything else.

“You know, I had it under control,” Sanji told him. The annoyance in his voice was mostly for show, hiding the relief that washed through him at how easily Katakuri accepted his explanation. It was true that he could have dealt with the swordsman on his own, though. Even though he was nowhere near his full strength, the guy had been too weak to really pose a threat to him. His slashes had been slow and his guard had been sloppy, and one good hit would’ve been more than enough to knock him cold.

Katakuri ignored him, gazing down at the bodies on the ground. He pointed at one with the end of his trident, the gunman Sanji had knocked out earlier. A shoe-shaped bruise was just beginning to rise on the man’s bare chest. “This one’s still alive. Who is he?”

Sanji shrugged, reaching into his back pocket for his lighter and a cigarette. It felt like ages since he’d last had one at dinner, but it couldn’t have been more than half an hour ago at the most. “I dunno. Just some random guy, he was pointing a gun at the kid so I-”

Katakuri pulled his trident back, then in one fluid movement, flipped it around and crushed the man’s skull with the end of its handle.

Sanji paused with the lighter halfway to his face.

Katakuri lifted the trident and it came away with a wet sound, glistening distinctly red. It was too dark to see close to the ground, and the man had been too weak for Sanji to sense an aura from him in the first place, but it didn’t take an observation haki user to know that the guy wasn’t ever getting up again.

Katakuri ground the handle against the hard-candy tiles of the street to wipe off the gore on the bottom, a casual, well-practiced movement. “You fought them, then. You aren’t injured?”

“No. I’m fine.” His words sounded a little flat to his own ears. He knew that the pirates in this part of the seas were famous for their cruelty, and he’d even seen firsthand what this particular band of them could do, but somehow it still took him off-guard to see it from Katakuri. There was something disconcerting in the ease with which he’d done it, something that clashed hard with his memory of the man standing in his kitchen and reading out dessert requests from his younger siblings.

The sense of warning he’d felt earlier had settled when he'd realized what was happening, but all of a sudden, it was coming back stronger than ever. Something about the way Katakuri wielded his trident, something about the way blood dripped from the golden end to splatter on the stones beneath them, and something about the bizarre contrast of Katakuri comforting his siblings in one breath then engaging in brutal slaughter in the next put every single one of his nerves on edge.

Sanji kept his head down, fighting his body to keep up a calm facade as Katakuri moved, spearing another downed pirate with a sickening squelch.

Could it be Katakuri himself had set it off again? He was a powerful enemy, and even if he wasn’t attacking Sanji at the moment, it was easy to understand why his presence would put him on edge. Still, this feeling of innate wrongness wasn’t at all like the icy fear he’d felt when he’d gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to find the man standing in his doorway. This was something…deeper.

It couldn’t be the killing itself bothering him, either. Sanji had killed plenty of times before. It was a necessity sometimes, a mercy others, and even on rare occasions an accident. Death was nothing new to him, especially since he’d become well acquainted with it so early in life. Could it be the _way_ Katakuri had done it?. When Sanji killed, it was because he had to. It came down to putting just a little more force behind a kick, or aiming just a little closer to something vital, and the outcome wasn't any different, but...there was no denying that something was off to him. When Katakuri had showed up, he'd been fine. When Katakuri had killed his opponent, he'd been fine.

But now, watching Katakuri flip his trident around seemingly at random, impaling or bludgeoning unconscious pirates as he pleased, Sanji couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

 

Katakuri looked to the burning horizon, the sounds of cannonfire still ringing as loud as ever. The noises of gunfire and clashing steel were growing ever closer, and though Sanji couldn’t see as far as Katakuri could, it was easy to tell that the battle wasn’t nearly over yet.

It had to be the invaders that were tipping off his internal warning system, not Katakuri. The space around him was a jumbled-up mess in his mind’s eye except for the heavy presence of the man right next to him, but it was reasonable to assume that the other pirates had brought plenty of their own strong fighters with them. More than likely, he’d just picked up on some of them nearby, and that was what had sent all these frantic signals flooding his brain.

Well, if the battle wasn’t over yet, that meant he had a good opportunity to disperse all that agitated energy in the best way. It felt like it had been ages since he’d sparred with Katakuri, and nothing was quite as satisfying as a good, hard-won fight.

“So,” Sanji exhaled, breathing out smoke and grinning up at Katakuri. “Are we gonna kick some ass, or what?”

 

Two minutes later, Sanji faced the still-rippling surface of the mirror Katakuri had shoved him through, fighting and failing to suppress the insulted frown that twisted across his face. He couldn’t help it; that kind of treatment _hurt_.

“Just for the record, I still fucking hate you,” he told the glass, but Katakuri probably couldn’t hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate ending:
> 
> “Oh, it’s fine,” Brulee said from behind him, munching on a slice of something that smelled suspiciously like his coconut mille crepe cake. “He does that to me, too.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait again, guys! Chapters are becoming consistently longer now, so that’s largely why time between updates is getting longer too. I’m actually leaving on a trip soon that’ll keep me busy until mid-January, so I’m hoping to release a special KataSan story before I leave to mark 10,000 hits on No Future!

_Katakuri’s presence beside him, steady and sure amidst the chaos of the invasion, a firm anchor even through the terrible churning in his gut._

Sanji turned on to his side, one hand pulling the sheets more tightly around him as the other slid to toy with the rim of his boxers. His blood was still running hot from the battle beforehand, and a few hours spent trailing behind Brulee in the mirror realm hadn’t done much to quell it. It felt like forever since he’d last touched himself, but it couldn’t have been more than a day.

_Katakuri’s hands around his waist, holding him tight as he carried him to the mirror. The man’s grip hadn’t loosened beneath Sanji’s fingers, gentle and unyielding even as Sanji tried his best to tear him away._

_He was so strong. Stronger than him, stronger than Zoro, maybe even stronger than-_

Sanji turned once more, burying his face in his pillow to stifle his voice as his breath caught in his throat. His fingers slid lower, closer and closer to where he wanted them...

_No. I shouldn’t._

Katakuri hadn’t been home when Brulee had dumped him back in the man’s house, but he could come back at any minute. The thought of being caught like this was too embarrassing to even imagine.

The risk was too high.

But he couldn’t pull away.

_Katakuri’s bare chest beneath his jacket, jagged tattoos lit up for brief seconds as the fire flared. The muscles of his forearm standing out, hardening beneath the skin as he jammed his trident into the ground. His voice, deep and low and rumbling_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sanji bit out when his hand wrapped around himself, adjusting to the pressure. A few light pumps did nothing to quell the aching need in him, and he arched his back, seeking out his release.

But a second later, he collapsed back down to the bed, covering his face with his arm in mortification. Doing this with a strange man, hell, an  _enemy_  in his head, was a line he wasn’t willing to cross. Accidents happened in the heat of the moment, and Sanji was no stranger to bizarre fantasies blindsiding him when he was right on the edge, but knowingly getting off to the thought of someone who he didn't even really know…

_No_.

Sanji waited a few minutes for his breathing to slow before trying again, reaching for a familiar figure, consciously steering away from Katakuri.

It was Zoro who he latched on to first, and it was Zoro’s body that slowly coalesced above him in his mind, a single stark black eye staring down at him in the dark of the crow’s nest. With the memory came a sense of the man’s dominating aura, Zoro’s triumphant thrill seeping into his bones as the man reveled in his victory.

It was more than a little hot. Sanji had always been a sucker for the strong ones.

His breath came a little quicker, hand reaching down to tease himself once more as he remembered Zoro pinning him down against the floor of the gym. The wooden floor was always hard on his back, and he’d knocked his head against the wall a couple of times when Zoro got rough, but anywhere else would make the risk of being caught too high.

_Strong arms beside him, a heavy body above. Scarred hands pulling his thighs apart, a coarse palm gripping him hard and pumping him up and down in fast jerks._

Sanji changed his grip to mirror the one in his head, squeezing just a little too tight and picking up speed as he sank further into the fantasy. His thighs fell open, relaxing in preparation for what he knew was coming.

_Blunt fingertips nudging against his hole, barely waiting before shoving their way past the sensitive ring. It stung but not for long, Zoro finding his sweet spot with practiced ease._

Sanji bore down on nothingness, the phantom ache vivid enough to leave him feeling empty. He gasped at the loss, clenching tight to simulate friction and choking off a needy sound when he was left unfulfilled.

He needed it, he  _needed it_ -

_Zoro forcing his way inside of him in one quick, painful thrust, the stretch agonizing but long familiar. There was no stopping, no waiting for him to adjust before the punishing fucking began, Zoro’s hands on his hips holding him still as he made him take every inch over and over again._

_Zoro’s voice, a harsh, panting whisper in his ear. “I win. But you like it that way, don’t you?”_

Sanji would always call him a bastard for that. He’d swear at him, wrap his legs around him and squeeze tight enough to bruise, and Zoro would curse and lean in and pound harder until the whole world disappeared and there was no room for anything else in his head, nothing but Zoro’s will washing over him and cutting him off from reality.

Usually, now was when he’d cum, reaching his limit in wracking, shuddering waves. He moved to focus on the tip of his cock, ready to guide himself to release, ready to give in to the freeing numbness that completion brought him.

But after a few moments, Sanji opened his eyes, vivid images slowly fading in the darkness of the room.

He wasn’t even close.

His motions were almost robotic, skin sliding against skin, and the ache of emptiness inside him was far stronger than the arousal thrumming through his veins. He was turned on, he was ready, he wanted to get off, but…

It just wasn’t enough.

Sanji scowled, squeezing his eyes shut again and moving his hand faster. He conjured the picture of Zoro above him once more, the musk of sweat and the sweet scent of sake in the air, the way his tanned-bronze skin glistened in the moonlight through the windows. This was the good kind of sex, the kind they had when they weren’t too pissed at each other, and he  _liked_  it, damnit.

But no matter how hard he imagined Zoro plunging into him, no matter how much he pretended that lone eye was looking at him with actual fondness, he couldn’t get himself above a low simmer.

_God fucking damn it._

His grip on himself slowed, then stopped altogether. He lay there in the dark, cocooned in his cotton-candy sheets, holding his cock and hating his life.

He was still horny, that much was sure. Even now the pressure of his palm around himself was a pleasant heat. He’d gotten off just last night, but he usually had plenty more in him, especially if his blood was running hot after a fight. 

_So why the fuck isn’t it working?_

Sanji found himself irrationally angry about the issue. He couldn’t help but feel annoyed at Zoro for somehow failing to get him off, even if the failure was entirely his own. Zoro had  _always_  been enough before, and Sanji could remember a few scant months ago on Ivankov’s hellish island where he’d have given his left leg just to look at the man again. Now, when he had plenty of memories from their reunion to work with, he couldn’t even properly enjoy it.

_Stupid fucking marimo._  Sanji would have to kick his ass for this whenever he finally got out of here. The absolute moron only had one job and he couldn’t even do that right. Why the hell wasn’t it working? Sanji knew what turned him on, and Zoro was just about the best fit he could find-

_Katakuri’s a pretty damn good candidate, too_.

Sanji scowled at the unwanted reminder, cursing his traitorous insides for clenching up at the thought of his captor. No matter how well the man treated him, Katakuri was still an enemy, and he was much better off thinking about Zoro. He couldn’t say much for the idiot, but at least Zoro was always there when he needed somebody to hold on to.

But Zoro was far away now, and Katakuri was  _right here_.

_Katakuri towering over him, an unreachable presence high above him, a monument of strength and power with a bloody trident to prove it. He was all sharp edges and heavy presence, a titan Sanji could only ever stand in the shadow of._

_Katakuri turning around, his weapon gone, that cold gaze seeking out Sanji and softening just the slightest when he found him. A massive body kneeling down beside him, the unreachable presence suddenly within reach and comforting rather than sharp. The titan wasn’t a titan, but a man; a man who held him close in his hands and told him he never wanted to hurt him._

Need pulsed hard inside of Sanji, enough to make his legs spasm and his hand jerk down to grip himself once more.  _Damn_ , but that felt so much better than a cheap fantasy about being fucked in the ship’s gym. He was suddenly right back on the edge, for real this time, feeling like he’d go into freefall the second he started moving. It was wrong, it was so wrong, but…

_Damnit, I really fucking need this_.

It was just one night. He just had to get through this, get it out of his head, and he’d wake up fine in the morning. Luffy would come for him, they’d fight their way out of here, and he’d go right back to daily life on the Sunny without ever thinking twice about what he’d done one single night in his captivity.

Just one night. It would be okay. It wouldn’t happen again.

Sanji pretended he believed it as he sank back down into his bed, letting his hand slide down once more, and losing himself in gold eyes and deep, whispered promises.

 

Katakuri was especially talkative at breakfast, fully alert despite the fact that Sanji hadn’t even heard him come home to sleep last night. He sat in his chair in the kitchen, a steaming teacup in hand that seemed to empty itself whenever Sanji wasn’t looking. “I meant it. I  _am_ sorry for throwing you through the mirror.”

Sanji waved dismissively at him, focused on picking out carrots for his quiche. "It's okay, I'll just add it to the list of things I'll never forgive you for. Hey, shouldn't you be apologizing to your sister, too?"

Brulee hadn’t said anything to him when he’d finally turned around and realized she’d seen him swearing at her brother, but he imagined she wasn’t too happy about it. He’d been chained up on a pretzel cart and dragged alongside her as she moved troops around, a piece of slow and useless baggage until the situation was deemed safe enough to drop him off at Katakuri’s house. Sanji had the sense that she blamed him for all the time they lost when the cart got stuck on pieces of rubble.

He’d been too busy marveling at the size of the hidden realm to notice at first, but it was obvious that the place had been torn to pieces. Brulee was forced to navigate around mountains of crushed stone and glass to get where she needed to go. The fighters she led obviously weren’t used to it either, stumbling around fallen pillars that blocked off vital mirrors and losing precious time trying to find new paths.

Sanji got the sense that she blamed him for that, too.

Katakuri acknowledged Sanji’s accusation with a tilt of his head. “She volunteered when Smoothie couldn’t be found. My sister agreed that she would rather look after you than leave you with the children.”

Sanji eyed the pan through the oven’s glass door, looking for browning on the edges of his quiche. Many of the dishes from yesterday hadn’t been washed yet, and he was stuck using a darker pan that cooked faster than the other ones. “Works for me. Another few minutes, and they’d have-”

A spike of pain pounded in the front of his skull, his vision blanking out for a half-second before returning. Sanji shook it off, wincing at the odd tingly aftershocks as he finished his sentence. He must’ve inhaled more smoke yesterday than he thought. “-eaten me alive. I’m lucky they were too busy stomping those freaks to notice me.”

Katakuri refilled his teacup from the massive kettle on the counter beside him, settling back in his chair with it. “That’s not what they’ve told me.”

Warning prickled on the back of his neck, but Sanji wasn’t afraid. No matter what the kids had seen, his story would still hold up. There was no proof that he’d actually tried to escape, because in the end, he  _hadn’t_. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Normande claims you broke down a wall to get to them, and attacked the man threatening her.” There wasn’t anything in Katakuri’s voice to indicate how he felt about that fact, but Sanji still had the sense that he was being judged.

“Yeah, I might’ve done that,” Sanji allowed, moving from the oven to the stove to check on the chowder he was making for dinner tonight, making sure his back wasn’t to Katakuri so he could surreptitiously watch for any changes in the man’s demeanor. “Wasn’t a big deal, I just happened to be there.”

Katakuri eyed him, one brow raised. The expression on his face was an unfamiliar one, but Sanji recognized the suspicion in it. “That’s hardly a matter to shrug off. Did you defend them or not?”

“Of course not. I was acting.” Sanji turned, facing Katakuri head-on and pointing a wooden spoon at him accusingly. “We were staging an impromptu play. A drama for the  _ages_. And you ruined the final scene, you ass.”

Silence. The eyebrow didn’t go down.

Sanji shrugged, tossing the spoon into the sink and turning back to the chowder. It was true that he disliked the brats, their snobbish demands grating against a sore nerve that was left over from his own childhood, but being spoiled was a long way from being consciously cruel. “Yeah, of course I was defending them. They’re just kids. Why the hell were those idiots attacking  _kids_ , anyway?”

Katakuri’s features shifted, settling into something more like normal. “We’re their enemies. Why else?”

“Well, yeah, but shouldn’t they just try to capture them?” It would have made a lot more sense than killing them, since they could be used as a bargaining tool to get out of Big Mom’s territory safely. To be fair, though, the kidnappers would probably get obliterated as soon as the brats were back home.

“Mama has no interest in trading for our captured siblings. They would have gained nothing.”

He’d heard firsthand from Chiffon just how horrible the big bitch could be to her own children, but it was something else entirely to hear Katakuri say it. The simple  _ease_  with which the man spoke was incredibly unnerving, as if he genuinely didn’t see why it was such a terrible thing for a mother to abandon her kids like that.

“Yeah, okay,” Sanji acknowledged with a carefully even voice, adjusting the heat of the stove with one hand as the other clamped down tight around the edge of the counter. Things were going well with Katakuri talking to him openly like this, and he didn’t want to cut it short by telling the man just how fucked up his family was. Not yet, of course. Katakuri’s easy acceptance of his mother’s mindset wasn’t something he could just ignore. But judging by the fact that he was still trapped in Totland right now, Sanji didn’t have a history of success when standing up to Big Mom.

Instead, he switched to something else that was bothering him. “But if they knew enough to realize that, they’d have to know about the kids too, right? Guys like those didn’t stand a chance at really hurting them.”

Sanji heard cloth shifting from behind him, guessing it was the sound of Katakuri’s shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Perhaps. They were likely sent in as a distraction while the stronger fighters engaged with us.”

Sanji frowned. “How the hell did those guys even get that far, anyway? Luffy said he didn’t get two islands in without you noticing, and they showed up with a whole damn fleet.”

“You don’t know? You’re the ones who disabled our territorial sea slugs.”

Sanji had to look at him for that one, but nothing in Katakuri’s expression told him if he was teasing or not. “I’m sorry, your  _what_?”

Katakuri narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him, before seeming to accept his lack of knowledge. “We usually have a wide network of underwater slugs who detect ship movements and report them back to us. One of my younger sisters was responsible for keeping them in line, but it seems she…chose not to. They haven’t returned yet, and without them, we’re practically blind.”

Something about that just didn’t sound right to Sanji. Sure, Totland was massive, but he’d seen just how many forces the Big Mom Pirates could muster up at a moment’s notice. “You don’t have any patrols? None of the little tarte ships around? You have a shit-ton of those, right?”

“ _Had_ ,” Katakuri corrected him, a decidedly cynical twist in his voice. “There weren’t so many left after what you and your friends did. We normally have homie patrols on the border islands, but we can’t rely on those now.”

“But you have fleets, right?” Sanji pressed on, not feeling guilty in the least at Katakuri’s subtle reminder. Those fuckers had been trying to kill his crew, so he was perfectly justified in smashing them all to bits. “Almost a dozen of them. You’re a fucking  _empire_.”

The look Katakuri leveled at him couldn’t be anything other than curiosity, strange as it was to see on his face. “You truly don’t understand the scope of damage you did to us, do you?”

Sanji paused for a moment, thinking back to what he had seen during his time in Totland. Every time Katakuri had taken him travelling, whether to visit the kids or tour an island, they’d mostly been alone. Sure, there were guards on the ships, but none followed them after they got off. Sanji had just assumed that Katakuri didn’t need the help. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen any other ships in the ports of the islands they’d visited. There’d been small travelling vessels, but nothing resembling actual battleships like the ones he’d seen during his crew’s escape.

Were the Big Mom Pirates really that bad off? Or was Katakuri just unwilling to let an enemy know the full strength of their forces? Sanji had to admit that the recent attack was a pretty strong argument for the former.

“Okay, maybe,” Sanji allowed. After a moment's thought, he added, “But I’m not apologizing, so deal with it.”

Katakuri considered that, then shrugged. “I suppose that’s fair.”

 

Katakuri left to deal with other business shortly after, and Sanji spent most of the rest of the day in his kitchen, cleaning up from yesterday and trying to get it back into a recognizable state again. He ended up eating dinner on his own, hurriedly swallowing spoonfuls of chowder as he portioned out the rest of the pot for future meals. It wasn’t until late in the evening that he was finally satisfied with his work, taking a step back and making a mental checklist of all the tiny details he still had left to address tomorrow. Everything major was back in place, but a few little things had to be put back the way he liked them.

He’d just stepped out of his kitchen, crossing the main hall on the way over to his room when he noticed something odd about his surroundings.

Something was…different. Had Katakuri moved the furniture around? The man had returned sometime earlier in the evening, but he’d done little more than check in on him before disappearing into his own room next to Sanji’s. He’d hardly had time to redecorate, and as far as Sanji could tell, the big table and chairs were still in the same place.

Sanji frowned, taking another look around. Something was definitely different, he just couldn’t put his finger on-

The mirrors were gone.

 

Back in his room, sitting on his bed and staring at the bare wall that had been covered in a massive mirror only last night, Sanji had to think about this new development.

He wasn’t stupid; he knew the significance of them lessening surveillance on him. Did they really think he wasn’t a threat anymore? Did they think they knew enough about his habits that they didn’t need the mirrors?

_Or_ , Sanji thought, with a kind of dawning realization  _do they think I’m not an enemy?_

He knew he’d never join them. His mind couldn’t even consider a life with the Charlottes, a life where he’d be trapped in one place, forever prevented from chasing down his dreams and doomed to serve people he hated. He yearned to be with Luffy, to be with his crew, to be free to laugh and cry and argue and  _live_  with the people he cared about more than anything else in the world.

That desire to be reunited with them had only grown stronger during the time he’d been here. They were everything to him, no,  _more_  than everything; they were an actual part of him and who he was. He’d never leave them. The idea that he’d join the Big Mom pirates was as stupid and outlandish to him now as it had been when he’d first realized their intentions.

But with the removal of the mirrors, it was clear that the Charlottes thought they were making progress on him.

Why? Was it because he’d protected their kids from a couple of freaks? Sure, he didn’t normally go out of his way to be the knight in shining armor for every brat on the planet, but who the hell would just stand by when somebody pointed a gun at a little girl? If it had been any of the Charlottes getting ready to slaughter a kid in cold blood, Sanji would’ve done the same thing.

The more he thought on it, though, the more he realized that their perception of him really had changed. This morning, Katakuri had shared more information about the state of Totland in a single conversation than Sanji had gleaned from weeks of tours around the territory’s islands.

He hadn’t thought about it at the time, chalking it up to the man simply being talkative, but considering how quickly he’d been shut down when asking about those things before, it couldn’t be a mere lapse in judgement. Katakuri wasn’t a fool; he’d never hand that kind of power over to someone he thought might be a threat.

He truly had to believe Sanji was on their side.

Sanji simply sat there for a moment, taking it in, staring at the empty walls.

Katakuri’s trust had been something he’d been aiming for, of course. He’d need it if he ever planned on getting on opening to escape. He’d even had that very goal in mind during the invasion last night, frozen on that candy doorstep halfway between the safety of a plan and the sweet call of freedom.

Sanji just hadn’t been expecting to actually  _get_  it.

Not this soon, at least, and definitely not to this degree. It was almost unsettling to go from watched prisoner to unquestioned ally all in one night. Something in the corner of his mind was distinctly uncomfortable with the acceptance, a painful reminder of just how hard betrayal could hit. No matter how much they welcomed him as once of their own, the fact remained that he would run for the hills the second Luffy showed up.

And Katakuri would probably be there to see him do it.

_He really trusts me_.

The taste that rose in the back of his throat was sour, his throat closing hard around the guilt-

_No. I owe them nothing_.

The feeling faded away as Sanji reminded himself of everything they had done to him and his crew. They wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him before; he wouldn’t hesitate now.

With that determination, his focus shifted to how he could take advantage of this new development. He had more freedom to move without the mirrors watching him, which meant more freedom to practice and build up his strength. He needed it now more than ever, since escape might be closer than he’d thought.

The Charlottes could delude themselves all they liked; it wasn’t a problem for him if they gave him the benefit of the doubt where he didn’t deserve it. It would only get him out of here all the sooner.

_In fact_ , Sanji thought, his gaze settling on the wall he shared with Katakuri's room, a grin widening on his face,  _I bet they’ll even help me along._

 

“Sparring?” Katakuri’s yellow stare didn’t feel quite as harsh when he was in his sweatpants, the lack of studded spikes and jagged-cut leather taking away from the intensity of his presence. He seemed more relaxed at night, leaning against the entry to his room with one arm propped above him on the doorframe and the other by his side.

And if Sanji wasn’t wrong, that had been a hint of amusement in his voice. “Yeah. You’re the one who offered it, right? So I’m accepting.”

“I was under the impression you disliked it.”

The reminder of his freefall slide into depression was left unspoken, but it stung all the same. Sanji ignored it, glaring accusingly up at the man. “How the hell would you know? You never asked!”

“No,” Katakuri acknowledged. “I didn’t.”

“So?” Sanji’s expression shifted to a grin, hands on his hips. “Scared of another go, rice ball? C’mon, what d’ya say?”

The scarf hid Katakuri’s expression from him, but it didn’t hide the jolt that went through his aura, a distinctly pleased buzz that had Sanji’s eyes going wide with surprise.

“I accept.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for being so patient! I’m hoping to get that special KataSan story out soon for you!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the long wait again, even after I got back from my trip this chapter took forever to write. And just a heads up, from now on chapters are consistently going to be around double what they were at the beginning of the story. It's been that way for the past couple of updates but now it's official, I guess!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

Reiju had only heard that particular noise once before, but it was still enough to freeze the blood in her veins. Cold dread seized her heart, every muscle in her body going tense for a moment before her training kicked in and forced her to relax.

By the time his footsteps drew nearer and his massive shadow fell across their cell, she was a statue, still and emotionless.

His eyes scanned the room with the cool yellow gaze of a predator as he stepped inside. The chair he’d sat in before was dragged inside to the same place it had been during his last visit, and when Katakuri sat down in it, the same blue-striped transponder snail was facing them from his hand.

Reiju knew from last time that silence would get them nowhere, and since her brothers were hardly capable of speech now, she chose to get to the point herself. As much as she tried to remain calm, though, the bitterness in her voice still seeped through. “What do you want?”

A golden stare zeroed in on her, landing with all the force of a punch to the face. “Does it really matter?”

When he’d last walked in, sitting down and pointing that recorder snail at them, she’d been so sure that he was after Germa’s secrets. Her brothers had been convinced of it too, screaming at him that the Charlottes were too stupid to even use the technology. But Katakuri had ignored them as he twisted their exoskeletons into bizarre, unnatural imitations of humanity. He’d known exactly how to hurt creatures who didn’t feel pain, known exactly how to manipulate abominations without emotions.

He’d targeted the one thing Judge had never stripped from them; their vanity.

Even now her brother shook with silent fury, unable to respond to any insults sent their way and incapable of lashing out at their captors. It wasn’t torture in the normal sense of the word, but leaving them trapped and helpless in their weakened bodies as they were blatantly ignored was as close to ‘torture’ as they’d ever be able to feel.

But in the long hours of snapping their reinforced bones, bending their hardened exoskeletons, and reforming them into hideous shapes, he hadn’t so much as looked at Reiju.

He’d worked with the devil’s patience, starting with Ichiji, then moving on to Niji, then finally Yonji, spending a few hours on each as he meticulously mutilated them. Reiju had thought she’d be last, as he must’ve wanted to work on the ones who’d offended him most first, but when Katakuri had finished with Yonji he’d just sat back down. After a few minutes of cleaning the weapon he’d used to maim them, he’d left, all without ever touching her.

Perhaps he had other responsibilities. The jailor had mentioned something about dinner, and someone like him was probably high up in the leadership chain, so he couldn’t be away from his post for long. Either way, Reiju knew he’d be back for her.

And here he was.

This time it was her brothers he ignored. Even through the shifting of their chains as they struggled, through the furious _hrrrms_ that were all they could manage through their makeshift gags, Katakuri only watched her.

He’d deflected her question the first time, but she tried again, keeping her voice steady this time. “I know you don’t care about our science. But you wouldn’t come if you didn’t want anything. What do you want?”

“Perhaps I’m enjoying the view,” he countered, echoing what he’d said the last time he’d visited them. “You’ve caused us enough trouble. It’s good to see you brought to heel.”

 _I would’ve caused you a lot more trouble if I’d known you had Sanji_. Reiju had fought just as hard as the rest of the Germa to avoid capture, but in the end she had given in when her brothers had been taken down. If she’d left them to die, though, she might’ve been able to escape alone. She could’ve had a chance to help.

The tactician in her was stirring just beneath the surface, quiet but always present. _He hates them, but he doesn’t hate you. Bargain for your freedom._

 _For Sanji’s freedom,_ she corrected the voice in her head, ignoring the Germa-taught selfishness that had ingrained itself in her since her childhood. Any information she had, she’d exchange for Sanji’s life, not her own. She knew she had plenty to offer…but would Katakuri accept any of it?

She met Katakuri’s eyes, trying to tease out any emotion that might be hiding behind that cold stare, but it was no use. There might as well have been a statue sitting in front of her for all she could tell. His sympathy with her plight would be out of the question, his willingness to honor a deal couldn’t be trusted, and it was a very real possibility that any attempt she made would backfire on her. Sanji knew nothing about their secrets, but if the Charlottes realized how much she was willing to risk for him, they would use him as leverage.

Reiju decided to keep quiet. Sanji had friends that cared for him. They’d come for him once, and they would come for him again.

She looked up once more to meet Katakuri’s eyes and found them directed away from her, the man now watching her brothers as they struggled against their bonds. Ichiji let out a choked noise of fury, the outburst warped by his mutilated throat, and there was no denying the flash of vicious satisfaction that passed across Katakuri’s features. He hadn’t lied earlier: the man was genuinely enjoying seeing them like this.

Reiju swallowed, fear’s icy fingers closing around her heart.

Sanji’s friends would come for him. They _had_ to.

 

Sanji lunged for the cabinets, throwing them open and frantically searching for what he needed. “How could you do this to me, you monster?! I trusted you! I _fought_ for you!”

Katakuri’s heavy steps echoed in the entry hall outside of the kitchen, and Sanji swore, redoubling his efforts. He couldn’t believe that Katakuri would betray him like this, hadn’t been prepared for it at all, and now he’d been forced to go to the absolute extreme.

The sound of the door creaking open was a damning one, and Katakuri’s presence washed over him a second later in a cold wave. Sanji made a mad dash for the side of the room where he kept his knives, cursing Katakuri the whole time. “You cruel bastard! I can’t believe you fucking did this to me!”

The voice from the doorway was patient. “Just let the other cooks provide lunch this time.”

“ _No!_ ” Sanji wailed, snatching up his biggest serrated knife. He dropped the fruit he’d grabbed from the cabinets onto the cutting board and proceeded to whip up the fastest fruit salad he’d ever made in his life. “You said we had plenty of time! I put a roast ham in the oven, and now we’re leaving in _five minutes?!_ ”

Katakuri leaned against the far wall of the kitchen, watching Sanji run in circles in an attempt to assemble a last-minute packed lunch. “I said that two hours ago. Weren’t you the one who wanted to spar? This gives us the most time to do that.”

The fruit salad was tossed into a container, Sanji darting for the refrigerated storage. He needed protein, and a cold-cut meat and cheese combo was the quickest meal he could think of. “You could’ve told me you planned to leave before lunch, asshole! I’m not ready at _all!_ ”

Pounding thuds came from the main hall, someone knocking hard on the giant wooden door.

“Our ship is here,” Katakuri said helpfully.

The saucepan Sanji threw at him missed by a mile, but he still felt he’d gotten his point across.

 

The mochi arena was just as Sanji remembered it.

All the damage they’d done last time had been repaired, the floors smoothed over and the walls reshaped into their proper rounded form. The place still felt way too big for him, but it wasn’t as intimidating as before; now, he knew that all that extra space made it easier for him.

This time when they faced off, Katakuri raising his fists and pulling his arm back in preparation, Sanji jumped straight into the air.

He couldn’t describe how good it felt to be back in shape again. His feet were sure beneath him, keeping him aloft without even the slightest twinge of pain, and with all the hot blood surging beneath his skin he felt invincible. There was no more holding back because of his injuries, no more carefully hugging the walls because he couldn’t trust his own strength. Now, he was back at full power, and ready to let loose.

Sanji launched himself forward at full speed, and their fight began.

The first few minutes were a crazed frenzy of attacks and dodges. He was doing a lot better, that was true, and he was moving faster and hitting harder than he had before. But now he could see that during their first duel, Katakuri really had been going easy on him.

The punches were coming faster than ever before, and even with his increased speed Sanji was barely managing to avoid them. They were hitting harder, too, shockwaves exploding outward from where Katakuri’s fists smashed into the walls and floor. If one of those landed on him, Sanji had no doubt they’d smash his bones to pieces.

There was still a plus side to the change. Katakuri might have had a longer reach, but he still had to be close to him to swing, and with his improved agility Sanji could send kicks flying at him from far away. Katakuri kept moving to close in on him, but Sanji could always go higher. The man would turn his arms into mochi to stretch further, but that just gave Sanji more time to dodge.

What it all boiled down to was that they were getting nowhere. Sure, the practice was helping, but both of them could go all day just fighting the air. If neither of them could manage to even get close to hitting the other, then it was a waste of time.

“C’mon, rice ball,” Sanji called out to him when he caught a moment to breathe. He held himself up off the ground, kicking the air to stay high as he watched Katakuri once more move to close in on him. “I thought you’d be more fun than _this_.”

“I could be,” Katakuri answered as he pulled back and swung, voice even and obviously unaffected by exertion even though they’d been fighting for a good hour now. “But I’m not sure you’re interested in finding out. Why not come a little closer?”

Sanji grinned, recognizing the taunt for what it was as he ducked below the punch and jumped back another few meters. “Now, why would I do that when I already got _you_ chasing after _me_?”

This time, Katakuri didn’t follow him. Instead, he stood his ground, fists lowered to his side, watching as Sanji propelled himself further away. “Is that so? I suppose I’ll just have to convince you.”

The change in position left Sanji with a strong feeling of foreboding, and he was just opening his mouth to ask Katakuri what he meant when the man raised his arms once more. This time, they were spread out to his sides, and when he clenched his fists mochi began bubbling up from the floor.

Strings of the stuff shot upwards, curling into wide rings that somehow stayed suspended even after the mochi receded back into the ground. After a few seconds, there were a dozen or so of them just hanging in the air behind Katakuri.

Sanji hesitantly sky-walked a few feet forward to get a closer look, suspicious. They looked like…like _donuts_ , for lack of a better word. Big, floating, mochi donuts. “What the hell are those for?”

Katakuri’s yellow eyes narrowed in focus. “Persuasion.”

The man stepped back into a fighting stance, and as his hands went up, pillars of mochi shot out of the rings and coalesced into the shape of massive arms. When he pulled his arm back to ready a punch, they followed suit, an army of extra fists that were each ten times bigger than Katakuri’s already formidable size.

And from the look of it, they were all aimed directly at Sanji.

 _Oh, fuck_.

When Katakuri swung, they all launched towards him at the same time, giving him no way out. His mind ran through possible escape pathways, working a mile a minute. He couldn’t drop to the floor to avoid them since the higher fists were angled downwards, and he couldn’t jump to the ceiling because the lower fists were aimed upwards. The spread was too wide for him to dodge sideways, too; it was like being attacked with a whole damn wall.

And it might’ve all been just mochi, but if that much hit him at once…

At the last possible second, he lunged forward, managing to duck under one of the higher fists and escape forward into the only clear path he had. Behind him, the fists collided with the sickly sound of five tons of wet dough smacking together all at once.

He barely had a second to get his bearings before fists were exploding from the ground, Katakuri guiding them towards him in a wide uppercut. With the mochi from the first attack still falling behind him, again the only way to go was forward, and Sanji swore as his mind warned him of more limbs coming from behind.

He kicked away from them, twisting in midair so he could get a better look at what was following him. Three more sprouting from his left, two from the right, none from the bottom so he could try going-

Something strong and heavy suddenly clamped tight around his right leg, and Sanji only had time to register that it was pulling him down before the wind was rushing loud around him. His back slammed into the ground hard enough to shatter the stone, leaving him dazed from the impact and confused as to how the hell he’d gotten to be literally _in_ the floor.

When he finally realized what had happened and looked up, all he could see were Katakuri’s eyes peering down at him over the two black leather towers that were his legs. It was almost comical how much bigger the man seemed when Sanji was up this close to him, his boot-clad foot alone easily as large as one of Sanji’s thighs.

It was too hard on his neck to look all the way up, so Sanji addressed his knee-spikes instead. “You asshole, you _threw_ me.”

Katakuri didn’t look very remorseful. Or at least, his knees didn’t. “I did make the offer for you to come closer on your own.”

“A ‘please’ would’ve worked,” Sanji grumbled, getting to his feet and stepping up out of the Sanji-shaped hole in the ground. It still hurt his neck to meet Katakuri’s eyes far above him, but the angle wasn’t as hard to manage, so he dealt with it. “And you’ve been holding out on me, you bastard. You could do that the whole time?”

“More or less,” Katakuri confirmed, leaning over a little to make it easier on both of them. His scarf had loosened a bit, one fluffy loop hanging low over his shoulder instead of wrapped up with the rest, but he reached up and tucked it back in with practiced ease. “It’s only useful in open spaces. And I’ve never had anyone attempt to bypass it by coming _towards_ me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sanji allowed, looking down at himself and taking a quick mental inventory. Everything felt fine; he’d finally regained his old durability, and he couldn’t describe how good it felt not to have to worry about injuries anymore. “But I’ve never had anybody grab my whole leg and just swing me around, so…”

“You were heading straight for me,” Katakuri pointed out. “I didn’t have a lot of options.”

Sanji couldn’t deny that. He had to admit, he’d been so focused on dodging the giant fists that he’d forgotten Katakuri altogether for a moment. Considering how high off the ground he’d been at the time, he probably would’ve smacked right into the guy’s head. “So you panicked? I understand. Especially since you’re so scared of me, and all.”

He got a raised eyebrow for that. “Then you must be _terrified_ of mochi, considering how eager you were to avoid it.”

“That doesn’t count,” Sanji argued. “That mochi was _you_. I wasn’t running from the mochi, I was just…avoiding this big dumb rice ball that decided to get in my way. Yeah, it doesn’t count.”

“I assure you, I’m no Logia. Me and my mochi are quite separate.”

“Bullshit,” Sanji said, because it _was_. Katakuri made the mochi in the first place, and he controlled the arms too, so it was totally all him.

“Very well. I suppose we’ll have to settle this the old-fashioned way.” Katakuri turned around and began making his way to the other side of the dome, obviously seeking to get a good distance between them so they could start again.

Sanji grinned, his blood rising at the prospect of more sparring. He might be doing this just so he could get stronger, but he couldn’t deny that he was genuinely enjoying the challenge. “Alright… _mochi_.”

Katakuri paused at that, twisting his head around to look back at Sanji. Even from a good distance away, it was easy to see the amusement shining in his eyes. “So it’s ‘mochi’ now? Interesting. Perhaps you should have started with that one.”

Sanji settled his weight on his back leg as he readied himself to jump once more, motioning impatiently for Katakuri to get into place. “Don’t push your luck, rice ball.”

 

When Sanji woke up the next morning, Katakuri informed him that the damage they’d done to the mochi arena would take far longer than a single day to repair.

They had to go to a different arena that day instead, a similarly-sized dome on Nuts Island. Since Nuts Island was so far away from Komugi Island, it took most of the day to sail there, and when they finally arrived it was only an hour or so away from sunset. The only good news was that yesterday’s abandoned roast ham had been perfect for today’s lunch.

Katakuri had promised before they left that they’d be back before dinner, though, and now Sanji could see why he’d been so certain.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sanji asked, dubiously eyeing the walls. The island’s minister had apparently seen fit to make the place out of _peanut brittle_ , of all things. The stuff crumbled if you so much as looked at it wrong, so there was no way it would hold up long against their combined assault.

Katakuri shrugged. “My sister has been wanting to replace it with a new recipe for ages. She offered. I didn’t see the harm.”

As it turned out, Katakuri’s sister had asked the right people for the job, because it only took them ten minutes to practically level the place.

One stray kick right when they’d started had cracked the roof, and from there, it was a growing domino effect that led to most of the ceiling caving in. The building was falling apart around them, and Sanji found himself forced to dodge massive falling shards of peanut brittle alongside Katakuri’s mochi-powered punches.

He nabbed a piece before it hit the floor, jumping off the ground to avoid the dough arms sent flying his way. Once back in the air, he took a bite, letting it melt in his mouth to get the full flavor.

It was good, but it could definitely be better.

“Tell her to use more baking soda,” Sanji yelled out to Katakuri the next time he passed him, pulling his leg back to aim a flaming kick at the man’s head.

“I’ll pass it on,” Katakuri acknowledged, ducking under his attack before launching an uppercut that forced Sanji to retreat. The man moved forward to take advantage of the opening, but he had to step back again a second later to avoid the massive human-sized peanut Sanji had just kicked his way.

They circled each other for a few minutes, Sanji’s haki working overtime to sense both his opponent and the projectiles flying around them. He hated the distraction, but it didn’t look like Katakuri was faring any better; his bigger body meant he had to constantly twist around to avoid getting hit.

Neither of them seemed willing to push any further, and when the dome shook and groaned like a thousand ice cubes cracking at once, they came to the mutual agreement to call it quits for the day.

Katakuri did keep his promise as they walked out of the wreckage of the arena, informing the tall woman waiting outside that she should consider a little more baking soda in her next building attempt. She was obviously another Charlotte sibling, towering over Sanji and standing tall with a distinct aura of authority.

The woman nodded to Katakuri to show that she’d heard, her gaze drifting down to Sanji by his side. Recognizing that she had to be the person who’d offered the arena, Sanji looked up to greet her, a few compliments about the peanut brittle ready in his mind.

She turned around without even acknowledging him.

Sanji watched her walk away, frowning as he tried to place her in his memory. He was certain he’d seen her before, probably somewhere at the wedding, but he didn’t remember ever interacting with her. He could feel the cold distrust coming off of her in waves, and there was no doubt it was directed at him, but he wondered why she’d offered them her island’s arena if she disliked him that much.

Maybe Katakuri was just that well-respected amongst his siblings? But he hadn’t asked to use it, she’d _offered_ it. And there was no way she’d needed their help to take it down. Hell, a few of the Charlotte kids could have smashed the place in minutes.

Sanji pulled out a cigarette and took a step closer to Katakuri, reaching for his lighter as his frown deepened.

The man was watching the shore a little ways away, obviously waiting for the ship to come and pick them up, but he must’ve sensed the question coming because he turned away to look down at Sanji. “Yes?”

Sanji kept his eyes on the woman, watching her pull out a transponder snail and speak softly into it as her long strides carried her further and further out of hearing range. “Does your sister hate me?”

Katakuri followed his gaze. “Amande has no reason to dislike you.”

The man’s tone was casual, but Sanji knew by now when he was avoiding a question. “Just because she has no _reason_ to hate me doesn’t meant she _doesn’t_ hate me. So she does. Why?”

There it was again, that pleased buzz in the air between them that left the hair on the back of Sanji’s neck tingling. He’d been pretty damn sure of sensing it earlier, but now there was no mistaking the source; he was picking up emotions from Katakuri that he’d never felt from the man before. He didn’t know if his recovered strength was influencing his perceptiveness, or if Katakuri truly had lowered his guard around him.

 _Is it worth it to ask?_ He didn’t want to sound suspicious, but if the man trusted him now, then he could probably get away with asking a few-

Katakuri spoke up, interrupting his train of thought. “Peanuts Island was one of the worst casualties of the wedding incident. Mama mistakenly leveled many of the buildings when attempting to catch your captain.”

Sanji considered that. “Sounds more like your mother’s fault than Luffy’s, honestly. I know he can stretch into some pretty weird shapes, but none of them look like, you know, _peanuts_. She’s what, seventy? Maybe it’s time for glasses.”

As usual, Katakuri ignored his comment. “That isn’t all. Your sister upset her some time ago, as well. She mixed her poison with the peanut butter stores here and flooded part of the island. It was…difficult to clean up.”

That was so like Reiju, finding weaknesses and openings no one else would even consider. It hurt to think of all the wasted food, but he’d always known that she didn’t care about collateral damage. Sneaking him cookbook pages in with his meals so the servants would be blamed, distracting his brothers from him with promises of other creatures to torment, knowing just what to say to make him run and never look back-

Sanji breathed in deep through his cigarette, letting the nicotine calm him. “Yeah, sounds like something she would do. So that’s why she hates me?”

“She has no reason to. It wasn’t you who did it.” Katakuri seemed content to leave it at that, turning away from him to watch the horizon again.

No matter what Katakuri might think, it made sense for most of the Charlottes to dislike him. Sure, he’d saved all their asses by remaking the wedding cake, but Big Mom wouldn’t have gone on her rampage in the first place if it wasn’t for him. The ease with which Katakuri and Smoothie had accepted him had to be an anomaly when they really should have been more like Perospero; tolerant, but always wary.

The oddity wasn’t exactly bothering him, considering how much Katakuri’s trust was working to his advantage. Everyone knew that the best skills only grew stronger in actual fights, so having access to a crazy powerful sparring partner was practically free training. He’d sparred plenty with Zoro, of course, but there was only so much he could tolerate the man trying to cut his ties off for fun before he lost it. And besides, Franky always got pissed at them for breaking stuff.

Thinking of that, Sanji couldn’t help but look back behind him, taking in the full scale of the destruction he and Katakuri had wrought. He’d seen so many strange things in the time he’d spent with his crew, but it still felt oddly surreal to be standing quietly in the chill air with an entire kingdom’s supply of destroyed candy falling to pieces behind them.

And as Sanji remembered with growing apprehension, it was all _edible_ , too. In the case of the mochi arena, the only thing that had really been damaged was the stone floor, but here they’d left good food just lying on the ground.

He reminded himself that Katakuri had told him nothing ever went to waste in Totland. There were so many people here, and stuff was always being ‘re-baked’ or whatnot. But since Amande was gone, and they were about to leave the island, he couldn’t just-

“She’ll summon the villagers to take care of it,” Katakuri told him, before he could even open his mouth. “Pieces like these are useful for building new houses. There’ll be nothing left by tomorrow.”

Sanji scowled up at him, running his hands through his hair first in annoyance and then in dismay as his hands came away sticky with sugary peanut dust. He’d been about to mention it, but there was no getting over the discomfort of having questions answered before he’d even asked them. Also, this shit was going to take _forever_ to wash out. “Can you stop it with the foresight stuff? When we’re not fighting, I mean. It’s hard enough to deal with it then.”

Katakuri was watching the sea more closely now, one hand shading his eyes so he could look against the setting sun. Sanji couldn’t see anything coming yet, but at Katakuri’s height, he’d likely spot it first. “It bothers you?”

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but the weirdness of it was something he knew he’d never get used to. “Yeah. Well, _no_ , but…yeah. A little.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. I wasn’t using it then, if it matters,” Katakuri offered, abandoning the sea to look down at him. It could’ve just been the light, but his eyes seemed more soft than harsh now, the yellow color somehow more…natural. “It just seemed like something you’d be concerned about.”

The sun’s last rays were washing over them, giving off heat even in the cold air, but that wasn’t why warmth was beginning to spread its slow tendrils in Sanji’s stomach.

 

That warmth remained long after they’d returned to Komugi Island, staying low in his gut as he cleaned up from dinner and said goodnight to Katakuri. It was there beneath his skin as he washed off in the shower and lingered as he massaged the first hints of soreness out of his legs. It held its place in the back of his mind as he spent nearly half an hour by the sink teasing all the sugar-encrusted knots out of his hair.

Then he slipped beneath the sheets, and in the quiet dark it flared up hot enough to scald him, his hand jerking down to grab himself before he could even think to stop it. There was no time for excuses, no time for pretending the face in his fantasy was anyone other than _him_ before the heat crested in him and he was coming in shuddering, helpless waves.

 _It’s just one more time,_ he promised himself, repeating the words over and over in his head as he lay in the dark with his spent cock in hand. _It doesn’t mean anything. No one ever has to know_.

The more he said it, the more hollow it sounded to him, but it wasn’t like he had any other excuses left.

 

 “Do you have a good recipe for cherries jubilee?” Katakuri asked him over their meal the next morning.

Sanji finished off the last bite of his eggs benedict, pushing his plate away as he hummed. He didn’t have a perfected one on hand, since Nami preferred more tangy desserts and Chopper preferred more traditional sweetness, but it wouldn’t be too hard to throw something together. “Yeah. Why, the kids ask for it?”

The requests from the Charlotte children had come in for this week just like the weeks before it, but there were significantly less of them now. Sanji had the feeling that Katakuri filtered them so he didn’t feel swamped all the time, and while he missed the challenge of rising to the brats’ demands, he had to admit that the fights with Katakuri were a lot more interesting.

Katakuri shook his head. “No. Sister Compote has offered her island’s arena to us, but only in return for a decent cherries jubilee. It seems that she’s been craving it recently and none of her chefs have done well enough to satisfy her.”

“Brandy, not rum,” Sanji offered, thinking aloud. “Orange zest. Bittersweet chocolate melted with the cherries. Sweeter ice cream, but less of it. That good?”

Katakuri reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a transponder snail with a tall glass fruit bowl neatly balanced on its head. “I suppose we’ll see.”

 

The giant hollowed-out pumpkin had lasted longer than the peanut brittle one, but after a scant few hours, it too had been smashed to pieces.

“How long until that mochi one is fixed up?” Sanji asked.

Katakuri stood beside him, pocketing the transponder snail he’d used to call for a ship. “The bakers say two more days. They're putting palmiers in the floor this time, but the first layer needs to cool before the others can go in.”

Sanji took in that information. “Sounds good. Hey, is your sister gonna be mad at us?”

They both turned around, watching as the last cracked wall of the gourd arena crumbled to pieces.

“She shouldn’t be,” Katakuri assured him. But after a moment, he added, “But if she is…do you have a good recipe for pavlova?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that a pumpkin is a fruit?  
> I didn't. 
> 
> Did you know that Charlotte Compote, Minister of Fruits, is almost as tall as Katakuri and has had her strength compared to the Sweet Commanders?  
> I wish I didn't.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's coming a little later than I wanted, but it's also (again) the biggest chapter so far.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

Fruit Island obviously wasn’t ready to host them again, and the mochi arena still wasn’t finished, so the next morning Katakuri suggested a different place.

Watching from the ship as they approached Biscuits Island, Sanji found he couldn’t see anything that would qualify as an arena. All the other islands he’d visited had boasted giant themed structures, but this place was almost unnaturally flat. Madeleine houses and ladyfinger paths were visible from the shore, and low pretzel forests covered much of the island’s edges, but Sanji couldn’t find anything that looked bigger than simple civilian homes.

When they disembarked, and Katakuri led him away from the village and towards the forest instead, Sanji’s curiosity got the better of him. “This place does _have_ an arena, right?”

Katakuri was walking alongside him, his long strides once more shortened to keep from getting too far ahead. He seemed to be getting used to going at Sanji’s speed, but it was obvious that small steps weren’t normal for him. “Not at the moment. It’s being re-baked. There is an open field, though. My brother has offered that in its place.”

Sanji quickened his pace a little, frowning. “Why’d he bother offering if he didn’t have one?”

“Any space will do.” Katakuri’s steps matched him, the man moving a little more easily now. If he noticed what Sanji was doing, he didn’t say anything. “Besides, he’s seen what we’ve done to the other arenas. I doubt the rest of my siblings will be so accommodating.”

“Yeah, okay. But aren’t you in charge around here?” Sanji asked, slowing for a second to get a closer look at the ginger-nut ‘fruit’ on one of the pretzel trees. Biscuits Island had been one of the few he hadn’t visited before on Katakuri’s tours, so his attention kept getting diverted by the new food-structures around him. “You’re a commander, right? Can’t you just order them?”

“Not exactly, that isn’t how we-”

“Oh shit, are these different sizes?” Sanji interrupted, his interest immediately caught when he noticed the smaller cookies hidden behind the larger ones. They started off tiny then gradually increased in width and thickness until they were full-sized, much like bunches of actual fruit. “Fuck, that’s amazing. It’s like they’re real.”

Katakuri turned towards him to cast a glance down at the trees, and Sanji realized that he probably couldn’t see what he was talking about. The tallest of the wafer-leaved branches only reached the man’s waist. “It must be my brother’s work. He prides himself on such things.”

Sanji took another minute to admire the detail, then stepped back. “You guys actually do work around here? I thought you just sat around all day in your houses, watching over prisoners.”

“That’s not true,” Katakuri told him, turning back towards the path to the field once more. “We occasionally go out for walks.”

Sanji pulled out a cigarette, hiding his wide grin behind his hand as he lit up.

 

_Somebody else was here_.

Sanji threw himself into a mid-air flip to dodge Katakuri’s punch, kicking out hard to keep himself aloft as he tried to get a sense for this new presence. It was wholly unfamiliar, and he wasn’t picking up on any malicious intent, but the pressure in his head was enough to put him on edge.

Katakuri seemed to notice them too, his head turning to the side towards the forest. A moment later he lowered his fists, and Sanji let himself fall to the ground a few meters away, following his gaze.

There was a man there, pushing past the last of the trees to walk into the clearing. He was obviously a Charlotte with his height and his odd-colored hair, and he was wearing the same bizarre orb knee-guards that Smoothie had boasted. Coupled with all the random pink polka-dots and green swirls on his mismatched outfit, he looked like he’d just lost a fight with a rainbow.

Sanji had thought that Katakuri’s preferences for all-black clothing were odd at first, but the more Charlotte siblings he met, the more he realized that it was probably a reaction to the goddamn headache he got looking at everybody else.

“Cracker,” Katakuri greeted him.

“Brother Katakuri,” the man echoed, and even though he didn’t look too happy to see Sanji beside his brother, his words and bowed head were distinctly deferential. “I hope I’m not intruding?”

“No. You’ve come to watch?”

Cracker’s eyes shifted to Sanji for a half-second before settling back on Katakuri. “Yes and no. Do you have a moment?”

“Perhaps,” Katakuri answered, taking a few steps towards Cracker to close the gap and crossing his arms. In this new position, the towering column of his left leg was planted firmly between his brother and Sanji. “What do you need?”

Sanji shifted a little so he could peer around it, wary. His blood was still running hot from the fight and the rudeness of the interruption was annoying, as well as the fact that like Amande, Cracker hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge him. He could forgive it in her, but couldn’t this guy see that they were _busy?_

Once more, Cracker’s eyes darted to Sanji for just a second before returning to Katakuri. “I was hoping to speak to you alone.”

_Well, fuck you too, then_. Sanji knew there could be plenty of sensitive empire-related information that the Charlotte family kept between themselves, but he’d be stupid to think this little ‘talk’ would be about anything but him.

Katakuri couldn’t have missed something that obvious, either. Even though it was always difficult to tell what the man was feeling, Sanji recognized his posture now as being deliberately closed-off. “I’m in the middle of something. Perhaps you could come to Komugi this evening?”

_Damn right, we’re in the middle of something_. Sanji’s annoyance was redoubled at the reminder. He always hated having to pause halfway through a fight; their smooth flow of reading and dodging each other had been broken, and it would take time to get back into the right mindset.

Sanji looked back to Cracker just in time to watch the man’s face settle into an even harsher frown, his eyebrows coming together. “I…can’t make it tonight. Is there any other time?”

The guy was obviously pushing, even if he was trying to be polite about it. Sanji looked down at the ground and idly toed at a loose piece of the biscuit floor. It felt odd to be standing there and listening to a conversation that was quite literally going over his head. Cracker might be shorter than Katakuri, but he had to be at least three meters tall, more than enough to tower over Sanji.

Katakuri didn’t seem interested in participating in whatever little game Cracker was trying to play. “You’ll have to forgive me. Most of my days are taken up with prior engagements.”

_Yeah. Like what you’re interrupting right now, asshole_. Vindictive joy was sparking in him each time Katakuri shot the guy down.

But Sanji realized that he was being petty. The Charlotte siblings had every right to still be suspicious of him, and he could hardly blame them for doing it.

_It’s not like it’s personal,_ Sanji told himself, that tiny bit of guilt still present in the back of his mind. _He’s probably just worried for the people he cares about. I know I would be, too_.

“What prior engagements? You mean your fights?” Cracker asked, and for a second his composed façade dropped, his eyes widening incredulously. “With _this_ guy? That’s like, five minutes, tops!”

That tiny pit of guilt evaporated. _Nevermind, he’s a moron and I hate him_.

Katakuri’s stance shifted a little, his leg planted more firmly between Sanji and Cracker. “What I choose to do with my time is my own concern, little brother.”

Cracker’s deep frown made a reappearance, and he hesitated for a long moment before he tried to speak again. “You really don’t have any time to talk?”

“You’re welcome to come visit me at my home. Is there anything else you need?” Katakuri’s words were casual, but it was obvious that he expected the subject to be dropped. He was using that same flatly commanding tone that he used to shut down Sanji with, like when he had to tell him to stay in bed and heal up.

Funny, he couldn’t remember the last time Katakuri had used that tone with him. Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time Katakuri had pulled out his closed-off act at all. The man wasn’t usually an open book, but there was a stark difference between the Katakuri sitting relaxed in his kitchen and the Katakuri standing in front of him now.

It looked like Cracker wanted to say something else, his mouth opening for just a fraction of a second before he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he closed his mouth and shook his head once, sharply, before throwing Sanji a last narrow-eyed glance and turning back towards the forest.

Sanji waited a few moments, standing there behind Katakuri and feeling the pressure in the air lessen as the man got further and further away. As soon as he felt he was out of hearing range, Sanji spoke up. “Hey, quick question.”

Katakuri turned his head, looking back over his shoulder and down at him. “Yes?”

He sounded normal again without that odd aloof coolness in his voice, and Sanji felt tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding lift from his body. Seeing Katakuri like that again had been an uncomfortable reminder of times that were far behind him now. “So, how many of your other siblings want my head on a pike?”

“Cracker is an isolated case. He has personal reasons to be uncomfortable with your presence here.” Katakuri didn’t try to deflect it this time, at least, but that was hardly a satisfying answer.

Sanji couldn’t remember ever seeing the guy before, but considering how much of the wedding ordeal was still a mad, hazy blur in his memory, his memory wasn’t exactly trustworthy. “Great. So what’d I do to him?”

“It wasn’t you,” Katakuri told him, but that meant nothing.

“So it was Luffy. Chopper. Brook. What did-”

_-we do to him. Us. The Strawhats._

_No. Have to keep his trust. Play along._

“-they do to him?” Sanji finished smoothly, without pausing.

Katakuri finally moved, his long strides carrying him past Sanji and to the other side of the arena. “Luffy defeated him. With the help of another, too, I believe. He didn’t take it well.”

Katakuri was obviously trying to end the conversation, returning to his place opposite him on the platform as if to resume their sparring, but Sanji wasn’t done yet. His answer sounded reasonable enough, and it explained Cracker’s behavior, but the fact that Katakuri was pushing to drop it so fast…

He couldn’t let it go. “Just that? Nothing else?”

There was a shift in Katakuri’s manner, a half-second hesitation where his shoulders rose a fraction of an inch as his upper arms tensed.

“No,” the man told him, easy, dismissive. There was nothing in his voice to give him away, and from this distance, the slight change in posture had been almost imperceptible.

_Almost_.

Sanji let out his breath in a long, weary exhale, reaching into his back pocket for his smokes. He had a feeling they weren’t going to be fighting again anytime soon. “You gonna tell me, or am I gonna have to guess?”

It was almost comforting, feeling Katakuri’s gaze sharpen and zero in on him. The spike of panic he used to get when it happened was long gone, leaving him with a grim sense of self-satisfaction in its place; he knew now that it meant Katakuri was sizing him up, trying to get a read on what he was thinking.

The man didn’t answer him, but he didn’t need to. His silence told Sanji everything he needed to know.

He lit up his cigarette, sucking in smoke before blowing it out in soft wisps. “So Germa made a stop here too, huh?”

The pressure left him, Katakuri looking elsewhere. “One could say that, yes.”

Of course they had. What the fuck else did they even do, besides go around and make people hate them? It was the only point of their whole twisted, sadistic existence. “What was it this time? Poisoning the water supply? Burning a hospital down?”

Katakuri finally seemed to give in, facing him head-on. “Your brothers-”

“I don’t have _brothers_ ,” Sanji bit out, cutting him off. The connection between him and the Vinsmokes was a dead one. Even if the rest of the wedding was fuzzy in his mind, he sure as hell remembered that part of it.

Katakuri’s gaze was sharp on him again, making hairs rise on his skin, but it felt more curious than critical. Sanji wasn’t sure why; he’d made it damn clear before that he didn’t want to be associated with those monsters.

“It was the most recent Germa attack,” Katakuri amended after another moment, moving on. “Other places were hit, but I believe it was the youngest who invaded this island. He went after the civilians while my brother was away. That’s why the arena is missing, as well. He…threw it at the city.”

_Well, isn’t that just par for the fucking course._

Sanji was plenty familiar with Yonji’s love of picking on people weaker than him, and the reminder of it left him feeling like shit all over again. _Of course_ they’d wait until the actual fighters were gone. _Of course_ they’d go after people who couldn’t defend themselves. Why the fuck wouldn’t they? They were psychopaths, the scum of the earth, cruel, sick fucking bastards who-

“Okay, one more thing,” Sanji spoke up, bitterness seeping through in every word. “Is there anybody here they _haven’t_ fucked over?”

“They’ve managed to reach most places here,” Katakuri said, though the furrows in his forehead let Sanji know he was frowning. He obviously didn’t want to be telling him any of this, but that was tough shit. “We don’t have many patrol ships left, and the larger ones take time to move. We had little way of stopping them in time.”

And, as the final nail in the whole damned coffin, _of course_ they’d only been able to do it because of him.

Katakuri had told him just the other day that the events of the wedding had decimated their forces. _His_ allies had taken out their sea slug network. _His_ allies had destroyed all their tarte ships. And he himself had baked the cake that had knocked out their mother, their strongest protector, someone who’d have easily smashed the Germa to bits if she’d still been conscious.

The Vinsmokes were predators, striking where they saw weakness. And he’d _made_ that weakness, so he was just as fucking bad, just as fucking _pathetic_ -

_No. Stop thinking._

Katakuri was looking down at him now, stepping closer, his hands falling from where he’d held them ready. He’d tried to keep this from him, Sanji realized, and that caught in his head as fury fired hot in his veins.

He welcomed it. Anger would save him from being dragged back down into the abyss. If he was pissed, at least he wasn’t _thinking_. “Were you ever gonna tell me this, huh? Just gonna leave me in the dark?”

“I told you last time,” Katakuri pointed out. “I didn’t see the benefit in repeating it.”

_Last time?_ What, like when he’d asked why Amande hated him, and Katakuri had told him about Reiju? He probably didn’t see the benefit in repeating it, because if he told Sanji about every little thing the Vinsmokes had ruined around here, he’d talk himself hoarse.

_It’s all my fault._

Sanji hated that little voice in his head just as much as he hated the Germa. Both of them were parasites, clinging on to anything he ever gave a shit about in this world and dragging it down to hell with them.

_I let them do it._

_Shut up._

_I let this happen, I made this happen, I couldn’t stop it, I’m weak, I’m weak-_

_Shut up!_

Anger rose once more. The abyss wouldn’t take him without a fight.

Katakuri was coming towards him faster now, the same long strides that had carried him so far away brining him closer just as rapidly. It was intimidating as hell, seeing someone that big move so fast, and that piercing gaze was fixed right back on him. “Sanji? What’s going on?”

Sanji couldn’t look at him right now, couldn’t meet that gaze and let it see what was going on in his head. His cigarette was suddenly too heavy in his hand, so he dropped it. The ground was safer than looking at Katakuri, so he fixed his eyes there, only watching the smooth biscuits tiles even as his voice came out cracking from barely-restrained rage. “Don’t need to tell me anything, no, I’m just the fucking _cook_ , can’t have me getting upset, can’t have me getting _hurt_ , ‘cause then I’m fucking _useless_ , stuck sitting around all day-”

Katakuri was talking to him, was saying something as he got closer, but everything was blurring together now. He could barely make out words through the ringing in his ears.

_He didn’t tell me because I’m weak. I’m too weak to handle it. Just a few words and I’m falling apart._

_No, stop it, shut up, shut up-_

_You’re proving him right. Weak. Pathetic._

_No! You’re wrong! Shut up shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP-_

_You’re nothing but a failure, Sanji._

And the voice in his head was no longer his own, but Judge’s, Ichiji’s, Niji’s, the combined voices of everyone who’d ever seen him in that cell and told him it was where he belonged. He was grasping at the edges of the pit, desperate to climb back out, desperate to stay himself, but it was useless. His fingers slipped and he was falling, down, down, into the void, into the dark-

Warning rang out in his senses, the signals warped and distorted in his dissociation, but blaring loud enough to knock him out of his daze, his head jerking up. Katakuri had closed in on him faster than he’d realized, and he was reaching out, a massive black-gloved hand covering his vision.

It clamped down on his shoulder, and in his mind its heat encompassed his whole body, putting a sudden halt to his mad plunge into the endless dark.

“ _Sanji_ ,” Katakuri said, simple and clear as he kneeled down in front of Sanji, and the word grabbed him and reeled him out of the spiraling depths like a hook lodged straight in his brain.

Sanji couldn’t do much but look at him, his eyes locked on Katakuri’s, held captive by the steadiness and surety in that yellow gaze.

“Sanji,” Katakuri repeated, and shivers thrummed through Sanji’s skin at how _soft_ his voice was when he said his name, “I didn’t want to tell you…because _you’re just not one of them_.”

Red was clearing from Sanji’s eyes, his blurry vision returning to normal as the darkness around him receded. Feeling returned with it, and he realized that Katakuri’s hand was just barely resting on him, long fingers half-curled around his upper arm. In his mind, that grip had felt like an iron vise, solid and unbreakable.

“You don’t look like them,” Katakuri continued, and though the rare softness was gone from his words like it had never been there, Sanji knew what he’d heard. “You hold yourself differently. You walk differently. You speak differently. Even at the wedding, everything about you was _different_ , and they…”

Here he paused, seeming to struggle for the right words to say. It was such a natural thing to do, needing a minute to gather one’s thoughts, but Sanji couldn’t remember ever seeing him do it before. He’d always been ready, always been prepared, always a few steps ahead-

It took a second for him to get it, his mind still too tangled up in how good he felt when Katakuri had said his name like that, but eventually it struck him.

_Ah, of course,_ Sanji realized _He’s not using his foresight_.

Then, with warmth spreading in his core, _He listened to me._ _I asked him not to, and he listened._

 “…they’re nothing,” Katakuri finally finished. “They’re nothing like you.”

“Ah…um,” Sanji said, quite dumbly, then cleared his throat. He had the feeling that he should say something, like _thanks for saving my stupid messed-up ass even though you probably don’t know it,_ but he couldn’t think of a way to phrase it without explaining why the hell he’d needed saving in the first place. “Yeah…thanks. Good to know.”

It was the most awkward expression of gratitude he’d ever given, and considering that he’d once tried to thank Zeff for everything the old man had done for him, that was saying something. But Katakuri accepted it, at least, lifting his hand away and pushing off his knee to stand at his full height.

“Trust me, Sanji,” Katakuri told him over his shoulder, already turning to walk back towards his place on the other side of the platform. “My siblings will come around. They’re looking for someone to blame now, but they’ll see. What Germa does has nothing to do with you.”

_Trust me, Sanji_.

“Yeah,” Sanji said to Katakuri’s back as he walked away, feeling the vibrations in the ground beneath him caused by the man’s steps fade as he went further and further. Through all the chaos of the past few minutes, all the thoughts of the hell he’d just narrowly avoiding plunging back into, only one thing stood out.

His name, spoken so softly, so openly by this man who could crush him to a pulp, this _enemy…_ but an enemy who had plucked him out of the abyss with nothing more than a touch and a few words.

_Sanji…you’re just not one of them_.

He’d always known that, even when he hadn’t known it was a _good_ thing. He knew he wasn’t one of the Vinsmokes, knew he’d never belong with them, and had learned over the years that he never wanted to. These words were nothing new to him.

Katakuri was facing him again now, a hundred meters away with his fists raised and his stance ready. Sanji mirrored him, still a little dazed that he was _himself_ right now. Not some pathetic, dissociated shell of himself, locked inside his own head. Himself. Thinking. Feeling.

_You’re just not one of them_.

_Sanji_.

He’d heard those words before, yes. And he’d heard his own name before, obviously. He’d just never heard it said like that, in that tone, as if they felt happy for him to be that way. As if they were glad for it. As if by seeing him, and seeing the way he was, they were…

Proud.

 

If there was one thing Sanji could identify that the Charlottes loved most, he wouldn’t say sugar, or sweets, or tricking people into thinking they were getting married then putting a bullet right between their eyes.

No, he’d have to say it was _excess_.

The sheer amount of soaps, shampoos, and general body products that the shelves of his little bathroom had been stocked with was absurd. There were shelves and shelves of bottles he barely even recognized the ingredients of, nevertheless what they were actually meant to do, but he had to admit that such a big selection came in handy. Especially when he’d had to use three different types of conditioner just to get his hair back to normal after what the peanut brittle had done to it.

Aside from that, he’d never touched any of them, outside of going through the shelves to see if there was anything he could use in a potential escape attempt. He’d been hoping for something slippery or sticky to toss at a potential enemy, but he’d settle for anything solid enough to act as a projectile weapon.

Sadly, nothing had looked useful. For the rest of his stay so far in Katakuri’s residence, Sanji had ignored the seemingly endless rows of colorful labels and fruity scents.

But this time, when he’d stepped out of the shower and put the only two bottles he ever regularly used back in their places, he’d paused, then grabbed one of the more simple-looking lotions before closing the door to the cabinet.

After all, with no more mirrors watching him, it was safe to get a little more…creative.

 

_“Trust me, Sanji.”_

Sanji let his head fall back on the pillow, one forearm raised to cover his eyes as he worked his fingers in a little deeper. He felt so much more comfortable spreading out like this now that he knew he wasn’t being watched, but Katakuri’s room was right next to his, so he still had to be careful.

The last thing he wanted was the man knowing what he was doing right now.

_“Trust me, Sanji…I’ll take care of you.”_

Only a few of those were Katakuri’s actual words, but Sanji’s mind had taken over, twisting the man’s voice to say what he wanted to hear. In his head, hands were pushing down on his thighs, spreading them and holding them open. He’d be so gentle, so soft…

“ _Hold still for me_.”

Sanji shuddered, letting his eyes slide closed as he trembled beneath an imaginary touch. Katakuri was big enough that he could hold him down with a single hand on his chest, pinning him more effectively than Zoro ever could. And with an extra hand free…

Sanji imagined for just a moment that his own fingers were Katakuri’s, pumping slowly inside of him. He’d be looking at him with those same yellow eyes, saying his name in that same voice he’d used today, telling him he’d take such good care of him-

Sanji bit back a hiss as he arched up from the bed, bearing down on his own hand, chasing the feeling until the need subsided a little. Would Katakuri let him ride his fingers like that, while he was preparing him? Or would he demand control, holding him down with all that strength and forcing Sanji to stay at his own pace? Sanji knew he could be over-eager sometimes, but with Katakuri, he’d probably need all he could get.

Sanji paused for a moment, eyes opening and fingers slowing in their movements inside of him, as he contemplated just _how_ much he would need. He’d never really stopped to wonder how the size difference would translate to other parts of his anatomy. Katakuri was about three times taller than him, but that was just height; he was three times wider than him, too. If he was looking at mass altogether, the ratio would be quite a bit bigger.

Fuck, he’d be _massive_ , wouldn’t he?

Breaking it down into a simple equation, three times the length by three times the width…meant _nine times_ the sheer amount of dick.

“Holy fuck,” Sanji whispered, lying there in his bed with his fingers completely still even as the lotion he was using as lubricant slowly leaked out of him, the implications of what he’d just realized hitting him hard. Then, when he actually pictured it a moment later, “Holy _fuck._ ”

Taking Katakuri’s cock would be almost like taking a fist, which would be reasonable, except he’d have to take _the whole fucking rest of the forearm with it_.

Sanji felt himself clenching up, his thighs clamping shut at just the thought of how much that would hurt. He’d be split in half. Torn in two. Completely wrecked. It was out of the question. Sure, Sanji couldn’t remember ever wanting to ride somebody to oblivion as much as he wanted to ride Katakuri, but there were very few things in this world he was willing to die for, and dick wasn’t one of them.

_But he doesn’t have to be that size_. _It’s my fantasy. I can pretend what I damn well please._

That thought caught in Sanji’s head, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized it wasn’t such a bad idea. He had experience with other men; wouldn’t it be easier to take what he knew of their bodies and just adapt them to fit Katakuri?

Zoro was the obvious choice, since he and Katakuri were the closest in body shape. Sanji would admit, he’d seen a lot more of Katakuri’s legs from his height than he’d ever seen of Zoro’s, but from head-on they could pass for similar.

It took a little mental work, rearranging proportions and trying to figure out how Katakuri would look if he was normal-human-sized, but eventually Sanji got to something believable. It was just a matter of lengthening Zoro’s legs a bit, cutting the hair a little closer, and giving him Katakuri’s familiar predator-gold gaze.

Katakuri would meet him in the crow’s nest gym, just like Zoro did. Sanji would lean back against the benches on the sides, and Katakuri would kneel down in front of him, urging him to spread his thighs with that same gentle touch he’d used earlier today. He’d be so soft with him, working him open one finger at a time, whispering promises that he’d be careful, that he’d take his time.

Sanji let his eyes slide closed once more, resuming his movements and slowly stretching his inner walls. Katakuri would still be big, just like Zoro was big, and he’d need a lot so that when the time came it wouldn’t hurt.

He slid another finger in, shifting his position against the bed a little so he could go deeper. He teased himself with flicks against his prostate, imagining how Katakuri would do the same, his fingers thicker and more calloused than Sanji’s smooth ones. It’d be rougher on his insides, but Zoro’s had been like that too, and the knowledge that he was being made ready to take cock gave him a far better thrill.

And then, finally, _finally_ , he’d pull his fingers out and lean forward, teasing Sanji’s hole with the head of his cock. Sanji would never admit he liked it, especially not when Zoro did it, but it made the feeling of being filled at last so much better.

Then Katakuri would push in, holding Sanji close against his chest, gently pushing past the waves of little muscles that were still resisting him, until he was fully buried inside, his arms wrapped around Sanji and his face buried in the crook of his neck and his voice whispering the sweetest, most beautiful things-

Things Zoro never said.

Sanji’s fingers slid out of himself, the rising tension of his orgasm abruptly dispelled, the lotion cooling quickly with exposure to the air and leaving him feeling cold and empty.

_Oh, who the hell am I kidding_.

Zoro had never fucked him like this. It was just another fantasy, Katakuri’s face pasted onto Zoro’s body pasted onto the lover he wished he had.

Sure, there were the times when they weren’t _too_ mad at each other, or when Sanji started things on his own terms. Like the times he managed to drag Zoro into the spare supply room and pull him to the floor and actually see Zoro’s _face_ while the man tried to break him in half, but those were few and far between.

Most of the time, they fucked after their fights. And since Zoro always won their fights, that meant Sanji’s face was always shoved into the floor, and the warped brown wood of the Sunny’s gym was all he ever saw. Zoro would never hold him gently, or give him time to adjust; he always fucked like it was some sort of contest, because _everything_ was some sort of contest with Zoro.

And while their little sex-sessions in the crow’s nest tended to mark the end of their fights, they almost always meant the beginning of a whole new one. Usually over why the fuck Zoro couldn’t just reach around and help get him off like a _normal fucking person_. Really, was it too much to ask for him to have some common human decency? It wasn’t like the bastard got off any _less_ from doing it, either; Zoro just refused out of principle. He just didn’t fucking understand why it always had to be about ‘winning’ with the goddamn son of a-

Sanji sucked in a breath and forced himself to calm down, un-clenching his jaw and relaxing the muscles in his legs where old habits had made him tense up in anticipation of a fight. Zoro wasn’t here, so there was no use getting worked up about it, anyway.

But the fact remained that Zoro never fucked him like this, and even the horniest, most desperate part of his brain knew it, so it wasn’t working.

_He’s not the only one I have. I know someone who’d be gentle. I know someone who’d care_.

And Sanji remembered that he did. His heartbeat stuttering in his chest, his fingers clenching into helpless fists as memories washed over him, Sanji remembered who’d touch him just like Katakuri had. Who’d be soft with him, careful even, holding back all that strength and power just for his sake.

_Fuck_ , it felt so wrong, thinking of him like this. Having him come up in his head even after everything that’d happened, remembering his hands and his mouth and trying to pretend it was somebody else.

Damnit, everything about this situation was so goddamn fucked up. Katakuri was literally right next door, and here he was, three fingers deep in himself, having a goddamn crisis over people who weren’t even here.

It was fucking _pathetic_.

How could he do this? How the fuck could he just use his memories of _him_ like nothing more than a tool to get off with? Like just another body he could use to play pretend? Some kind of toy? How could he let himself get away with this shit?

And Sanji decided, there in that moment, that he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t sink this low. He could do anything he needed to in order to survive these nights, fuck, even fantasize about an enemy who was sleeping right next to him if he had to, but he wouldn’t involve _him_ in this. _He_ deserved better.

Sanji pushed the thoughts, just like he always had. They stuck around, little wisps of memories in his head, the sound of his voice and the feel of his skin and the whispered promises, but eventually they faded away. Just like they always did.

Sanji squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath and waiting for the moment to pass, before opening them again. He still had a problem, and if he planned on getting any sleep tonight, he needed to solve it.

Fine, then. If he couldn’t pretend that Zoro was gentle, then he’d pretend Katakuri was rough.

Remembering that one night so long ago, where he’d stood in the cold and Katakuri had stared him down from the doorway with his fury making the air tremble between them, Sanji found that it was a far easier change to make. Katakuri might have been soft with him, but he knew the man could have just as easily been so, so hard.

He’d shown that superior, dominating strength many times before in their fights. The first time, when he’d taken Sanji off-guard and pinned him against the ground. Then the second time, when he’d pulled that trick with the giant mochi arms, then just plucked him out of the air and tossed him to the floor.

Zoro would’ve counted both of those as a victory. Getting Sanji down on the ground was the way he always won, knocking his legs out from beneath him so he could get right down there with him and leverage his superior strength. Katakuri might have let him back up, but Zoro wouldn’t have given him the chance.

_And,_ Sanji thought, shivering a little as the possibility teased at the edge of his mind, _what if Katakuri didn’t, either? What if he was like Zoro, and followed me to the ground, and pinned me, and-_

A bolt of heat shot straight to his cock, and a short, breathy cry was wrenched out of him, his insides clenching. _Fuck_ , yeah, Katakuri acting like Zoro was good. Yeah, he could work with that.

But the cry had been a little louder than he liked in the quiet night air, and Sanji stilled, holding his breath and listening for sounds of movement from Katakuri’s room next door.

One moment of silence. Two moments. Sanji waited a full minute, too terrified of the consequences to be anything less than absolutely sure.

Nothing.

Sanji let out the air he’d been holding in a heavy exhale, settling back on the bed and reaching for the lotion bottle once more. Maybe his luck had finally come through; Katakuri must be a deep sleeper.

 

Katakuri was many things, but a deep sleeper wasn’t one of them.

That didn’t matter, though. Sanji could have been as loud as he’d liked, screaming to the rafters, and Katakuri wouldn’t have heard.

He wasn’t there.

 

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

Reiju heard her brothers fighting against their restraints, furious choked-off noises filling the room as recognition struck them all at the same time. The past two visits had been so close together, and now for this one as well…it seemed their torment was meant to be regular entertainment for this twisted, cruel monster of a man.

She kept her head lowered as he neared, only bothering to raise it when she could feel his frigid presence close enough to wash over her. He hadn’t tortured them last time, only sat and watched as her brothers struggled, so perhaps it would be the same again. This time, she would demand answers. She could play at being haughty, could ask about Sanji under the guise of-

The trident was imbedded in the wall before she even realized it’d been thrown.

Her brothers went abruptly silent. Their ability to sense danger was far duller than hers, just like their ability to feel pain, but in the most extreme of situations even they could pick up on it.

And judging by the cold fury in Katakuri’s unnaturally-colored eyes, _this_ was certainly an extreme.

The man wrenched his weapon back by the end of the handle, tatters of paper falling from the impact site. The points had landed between her and Ichiji, boring three deep holes into the book-prison wall right beside them. Each was easily as large as Reiju’s head.

Ichiji, never silenced for long, turned his head back to Katakuri in the stiff, jerky movements that were all he could manage, mutilated mouth forcing out sounds that were a mockery of words. “Hrm..haaa…”

Katakuri’s arm moved, the trident raised above his head. At such a close range, it was clear who he was aiming at.

After all, the first time he’d visited them, he’d started with Ichiji too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katakuri is physically 90% leg, so he's perfect for Sanji who is also 90% leg but like, SPIRITUALLY


End file.
